And Then There Were Two
by Jane Poirot
Summary: AU: What if the boat arrived in time and rescued the murderer's two final intended victims? And what if, after a series of trials and tribulations, they developed feelings for each other?
1. An Alternate Universe

1

**An Alternate Universe**

**A/N: First of all, I'd like to say that 'And Then There Were None' is one of my all-time favourite novels and I love the ending as much as the next person and I would be very displeased if it actually ended this way (not to mention it would be waaaaaaayyy longer than necessary and would turn into a detective/romance story); this is simply an exercise of my imagination and there's nothing wrong with using your imagination, right? Disclaimer: Nothing related to 'And Then There Were None' belongs to me and if there is a point where I get the temptation to refer to 1930's movies and books, or to modern-day songs, I do not own any of them either! PS SPOILERS!**

A figure watched with hungry eyes through the window down at the two doomed figures on the beach. The fools! They were playing right into his trap, as he had intended all along. Now it was a matter of who would win out first. His money was on the girl. While researching his victims' pasts, he had found out that she was quite intelligent and capable of getting out of any unpleasant situation without a scratch on her face. Besides, when two animals were forced to compete for survival, it was often the female species that won.

Ah, but what if the man won? Highly unlikely, since he used brawns rather than brains to defeat his enemies, but what if he won? Then the hanging plan would have to go a bit differently…he had no doubt the girl's guilt and mental instability would drive her to do it; the man, on the other hand, would be a bit more difficult. Although neither the man nor the girl would be in a fit mental condition, the man had little to no guilt for his sin, so perhaps he would have to take matters into his own hands…

Wait. What was that in the background at sea? No! It couldn't be! But it was—he was looking at a boat that was slowly moving closer to the island. Now everything would fall to pieces!

The figure sighed. He didn't want to do it, but the boat seemed to be getting closer, so he really had no choice.

* * *

Lombard laughed. He said, "So that's it, is it Vera?"

Vera said, "There's no one on the island—no one at all. _Except us two…_" Her voice was a whisper—nothing more.

Lombard said, "Precisely. So we know where we are, don't we?"

Vera said, "How was it worked—that trick with the marble bear?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "A conjuring trick, my dear—a very good one…"

Their eyes met again. Vera thought, _Why did I never see his face properly before. A wolf—that's what it is—a wolf's face…Those horrible teeth…_Her thoughts were suddenly in interrupted by something that caught her eye. Was that really—no, it couldn't be; her mind was probably just playing a cruel trick on her—as it had many times this weekend—but she took a closer look and sure enough, there it was: _The boat was coming._

"What are you staring at—oh," said Lombard, when he saw the boat, too. He turned to Vera and said, "Now, let's make a deal, my good girl: You tell the boatman the truth, and I'll speak in favour of you in court. How's that sound?"

"As long as you do the same," replied Vera coolly.

Lombard clenched Vera's wrist tightly and hissed, "Just to make sure you don't try to run away, my dear."

Suddenly, Vera's heartbeat was taking up a much quicker pace. He wouldn't dare try to kill her when the boat was within view, would he?

The two stood there, dumbly gazing out at the boat, which slowly grew closer and closer...

* * *

The figure silently pushed the door open and closed it behind him. He was going to take the sneaky approach. Oh, he knew trying to quickly kill off his two, final intended victims would be useless at this point, but he was going to make his grand entrance as soon as the boat arrived and he would not allow them to take him to the gallows, either...

* * *

At last, the boat arrived. Fred Narracott, who had just stopped the boat, was now climbing out and saw Lombard and Vera standing on the beach. "Oh, hello you two!" he cheerfully said. "My instincts were telling me, 'something must be amiss; I don't care what the instructions were; I have to come out at once'! And when I saw the distress signal halfway throw coming here, it turned out I was right! It's a good thing the sea suddenly calmed down overnight; otherwise, I would've had to wait a bit longer! So, would either of you care to explain the situation?"

"Neither of them can," said a familiar voice. "But I can."

Lombard and Vera slowly turned around...and were shocked to see _Judge Wargrave alive!_ Lombard was so shocked, he let go of Vera's wrist.

"You!" they gasped.

"But—how is this _possible?!_" burst out Vera.

"Yes, aren't you supposed to be dead?" questioned Lombard.

A smile curled on Wargrave's lips. "You thought I was dead," he mused. "All because Dr. Armstrong, a respected figure in society, told you I was dead. Then again, that's how our society works: They're willing to believe anything a respected figure tells them. This was Dr. Armstrong's fatal mistake. He was willing to believe me when I told him I had concocted a plan to catch the unknown murderer: I would pretend to be the next victim and move about the house to spy on whom I wished. A gunshot and some red mud on the forehead was all it took to fool the two of you. The red robe and wig were my own personal touch, out of my own vanity."

Fred, who was quite confused over what was going on, felt compelled to ask, "Er...are the other guests ready?"

"They'll not be coming," said the insane judge. "I killed them during the course of the weekend. You see, I've had a lust to kill ever since I was a lad. Only my strong sense of justice helped me restrain myself: I've always believed that the innocent should be spared, and the guilty punished. It was for this reason that I adopted the law as my profession. Even so, I _still_ felt unsatisfied, for there were cases of deliberate murder, cases wherein I knew the accused to be guilty from their mannerisms and facial expressions...and yet the evidence was such that they could never be convicted.

"And then one day, quite suddenly, the solution came to me..._I would punish those that the law could not touch!_ I would gather nine people from various walks of life who had at one time or another in their lives committed a murder that was untouchable by law. Then, I would kill each of them off one by one in accordance to a childish rhyme that was read out to me as a boy: The rhyme of the Ten Little Indians. Something about the rhyme fascinated me: The inexorable diminishment—the sense of inevitability..."

Here, the judge paused for dramatic effect, to catch his breath. Suddenly, Vera felt quite scared. Here was a man whom she thought was perfectly sane upon their first meeting, a man whom she and Philip had had dinner with three times...and all this time, she had been sitting across the murderer.

Wargrave continued: "I will not go into detail as to how I collected my victims, but I will mention that I was convinced of the guilt of every one of them. Even so, I still needed a tenth victim. And this victim's name was Isaac Morris, a shady little dope peddler."

Now it was Lombard's turn to tense up. Isaac Morris...that damnable Jew boy...he _knew._

"During all of this, I received my own death sentence. Rather than go down the way of the mundane patient with a complete loss of human dignity, I resolved instead to go down with a blaze of excitement. I would _live_ before I died.

"I will not take up time explaining the mechanics of the actual crime; Mr. Lombard and Miss Claythorne will explain to you, I am sure. If not, then a mortician will explain how each victim died. But I will tell you more about Morris: To acquire the island, using the man Morris to cover my tracks, was easy enough. He was an expert in that sort of thing. Tabulating the information I had collected about my prospective victims, I was able to concoct a suitable bait for each. For instance, Miss Claythorne," his eyes looked straight into Vera's, making her freeze to the spot, "received a letter telling her she had been employed as Mrs. Owen's secretary. Ever since the summer of Cyril Hamilton's drowning," (Vera grimaced, causing the judge's smile to spread maliciously) "she has been trying to keep herself busy by applying for a temporary secretarial post during the holidays, so when she got the letter telling her to report to Indian Island, who was she to say no?

"And Mr. Lombard," this time, his eyes shifted over to Lombard who felt uncharacteristically afraid, "has participated in quasi-legal activities. He has a reputation for being unafraid of taking big risks and is willing to do whatever is necessary for his _own_ survival, which is why, when Isaac Morris approached him with a hundred guineas in exchange for going to Indian Island to meet up with Mr. Owen, he gladly took the proposal with no questions."

Now, his eyes shifted to the ocean, and he seemed to be half-talking to himself as he spoke: "Morris was already accounted for. He suffered from indigestion. Before leaving London I gave him a capsule to take last thing at night which had, I said, done wonders for my own gastric juices. He accepted it unhesitatingly—the man was a slight hypochondriac. I had no fear that he would leave any compromising documents or memoranda behind. He was not that sort of man. And now, here we are."

Wargrave glared at Fred. "My masterpiece was _nearly_ complete, had it not been for your interruption."

"My instincts told me something wasn't right the moment I dropped everyone off at Indian Island, and they kept bugging me throughout the weekend and wouldn't leave me alone, so I finally decided to just drop by and check on everyone to get rid of the feeling," said Fred defensively. "Now, I see my instincts were right!"

Wargrave laughed an evil laugh. "Indeed they were! Before we say our final goodbyes, I will say this: I refuse to be taken to the police and be hanged in public square, allowing everyone to laugh at the irony of a hanging judge meeting the same fate. Instead, I shall go down with a bang." He stretched out a hand and told Lombard in a manner similar to speaking to a child who wouldn't share the toys, "Give me your revolver, Mr. Lombard."

Lombard hesitantly put one hand in his pocket, and slowly pulled out the revolver...

But whether he was going to give it to the judge or shoot him with it was unknown, for at that moment, Vera snatched the revolver out of Lombard's hand, whipped it in Wargrave's direction and, without any hesitations or second thoughts, emptied the gun's contents right into Wargrave, causing him to collapse on top of Dr. Armstrong.

The gun fell out of Vera's hands and onto the ground. She collapsed the ground in tears. Lombard only stood there, shaking. Neither one of them could believe it. It was over? No more terror, no more fear? No more constantly looking over their shoulders, wondering which of the guests would kill them in their sleep?

Fred didn't know what to say. He had imagined a lot of things that could've happened, but he never imagined _this._ This would undoubtedly be a story he'd be telling to his eight-year-old son later that night. There was only thing that came to mind, but he felt it a bit inappropriate. It would be comical under any other circumstances, but it was clear these two people had been through a lot of trauma during the weekend and such a comment would be inappropriate. And yet, he couldn't allow the silence to go on any longer: "How about we go back up and get your luggage?"

"NO!" shrieked Vera. She sprang up and ran all the way to the docks and climbed into the boat. She sobbed, "Just take me back to the mainland, _please!_ I _never_ want to go inside that house _ever _again!"

Lombard could only walk up to the boat, silent and sombre.

"Very well," shrugged the boatman. "I'll get it."

"NO!" shrieked Vera again. "Just take us back! Get it later!"

Even though it would mean two trips, Fred decided to obey this poor woman's wishes. By now, Lombard was already in the boat. Fred got back into the boat and began to take off, hoping Mr. Lombard and Miss Claythorne would eventually be able to leave the nightmare-ish events of Indian Island behind them.

**PS I'm not sure how fair making the ocean calmer is, but hey, AU stands for 'Alternate Universe' as in 'this is what COULD HAVE happened' as in 'the ocean was calmer in THIS universe'.**


	2. A Long Journey

2

**A Long Journey**

The ocean seemed to never end during the long boat ride back to shore. It just seemed to stretch out forever beyond the horizon.

"Not much farther now," said Fred cheerfully.

There was no response from Lombard or Vera.

Fred tried again: "That island is out of sight, so we should be heading for the mainland, soon."

Still no response.

Fred sighed. Oh, well. At least he had tried.

* * *

Lombard's mind was on other things. Namely his weekend on Indian Island. It had been…life-changing, to say the least. He had always viewed himself as invulnerable, as though nothing could harm him. No matter what kind of injuries he suffered from his own folly, he'd always heal in a matter of time and be back on his feet again.

But this…this kind of injury would take _quite_ some time to recover from.

Oh, he still had no pity for those natives, of course; they were only natives, after all. And yet…if he hadn't stolen their supplies, if he had just risked it with what food and drink he had, perhaps he wouldn't be here, feeling numb from the aftershock. But then again, if he hadn't done it, he wouldn't have had the strength to risk his life during that fire and receive injuries so great he'd be bed-ridden for at least two months, being taken care of by Jennifer…

_No!_ He would _not_ think of Jennifer! He had succeeded in erasing her from his mind during the past week and he planned on keeping it that way. He wasn't Vera Claythorne, after all. She always appeared to be lost in her thoughts and no matter how much she denied it, she was thinking of a former lover. He just _knew._ It made her…rather attractive, he had to admit. She was like a deer caught in on-rushing headlights, a deer that knew danger lay ahead, but was too scared to do anything except fight back with what it could.

Lombard turned to see how Vera was doing. She was sitting at the opposite end, gazing out at the ocean. He opened his mouth, as though to call her, but then decided against it and turned back to face the ocean. The last thing he needed right now was to get involved with another woman. And besides, she was nothing more to him than a fellow survivor.

That was all.

* * *

Vera tried to get herself to stop shivering, but couldn't. The events of the weekend continued to play in her mind like a movie. She kept thinking of how close she had come to getting killed…_how close…_

_If it hadn't been for the boatman,_ she realized, _my goodbyes to my parents and cousin on my birthday, and my goodbye to Evelyn, might've been my final goodbyes._

This thought caused the shivers to continue. She closed her eyes, trying very hard not to think of the ocean that lay ahead of her. The ocean brought back too many memories of Cyril…and of Hugo…

Oh, why did she have to kill Cyril, anyway? Why couldn't she have waited for Cyril to die a natural death and then marry Hugo? Had she done that, she would not be here right now, still shivering from the weekend from hell.

Vera had given up not thinking of Hugo. It was no use. She had been making excellent progress before Indian Island. She had been building her life back together. She had gotten a permanent job as a teacher at an all-girls, third-class school (though she suspected she'd be better off taking this year off to recover). She no longer felt a sting of envy whenever she saw a happy couple walking down the streets. But now, all that progress was slowly fading away. She was going back to what she used to be after murdering Cyril: A body without a soul.

Vera opened her eyes and slowly turned around to see Philip Lombard gazing out at the ocean. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly as she thought back to all the private talks she had had with Philip. They'd often talk about Indian Island (naturally, given the events), but they would occasionally talk about other things, too, to take their minds off the terrifying events. There was something naturally calming, naturally soothing, about Philip. They would occasionally lock eyes, but then she would look away, blushing furiously. Or they would sit together while talking with the other guests, their hands touching, but not quite entwined.

_Well, it was nice while it lasted,_ thought Vera, turning back to the ocean.

* * *

"Land ho!" called out Fred, interrupting Lombard and Vera's thoughts.

Slowly, the docks approached, and the frightening image of Indian Island was gone physically, but not mentally.

No, it would be a long time before Indian Island ever left their minds.


	3. Forgive and Forget

3

**Forgive and Forget**

Lombard paced back and forth in his living room. It was around eleven o'clock at night, but he couldn't get to sleep.

After returning to the mainland, the boatman decided to report what had happened to the police, who subsequently questioned him and Vera for what felt like hours. He could barely remember what the questions or the answers were. All he could remember was sitting there in a most uncomfortable chair next to Vera answering endless questions with as much honesty as he could allow. Then, it was over. He and Vera got out of the room just in time for the boatman to give them their luggage (not that it mattered any longer, but they allowed the boatman to think he was doing them a service). And then...they left. Just like that. Without saying so much as a word to one another.

Would they see each other again? Lombard highly doubted it, though there was no harm in wishful thinking.

Lombard's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. He got up and walked over to the door and opened it...only to be greeted by two people whom he had had a falling out with just one week before going to Indian Island: Charles Morley and Jennifer Hayes (or was it now Morley?).

"Oh," he said. "Morley. Jennifer. How do you do?"

"We're doing just fine, thanks," said Morley. "We're married now."

"Right," nodded Lombard. So it was Morley now. "Would you care to come in?"

He led them in and closed the door behind them. He led them into the kitchen and pulled out some chairs for them to sit on.

"Jennifer and I just wanted to see how you're doing," spoke up Morley as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "We heard about it on the radio...about Indian Island. They didn't give out the names of any of the victims since the families have yet to be notified, but they did mention you and another person survived. So, how are you holding up?"

"I've been worse," shrugged Lombard. "I can't sleep right now, but it'll pass."

"We also want to bury any hard feelings with you," said Jennifer. "We're sorry for not telling you sooner, but..."

"No," said Lombard. "I was being an ass, as always." He hesitated before asking, "How's Chester?"

"He's sleeping right now," said Jennifer. "His grandmother is looking after him while we're here, talking to you."

"I mean, how has he been, considering...?" asked Lombard.

"Oh, he was upset, but he's calmed down, now," said Jennifer. This time, it was her turn to hesitate before asking something: "We heard that the other survivor was a female. Was there anything...between you two?"

"No, of course not," said Lombard quickly. "I was infatuated with her, but it didn't go far, and it's over now. She's just a fellow survivor, nothing more."

"Right," said Morley in a tone of voice suggesting he didn't believe Lombard. "So, no hard feelings, mate?"

"Of course not," said Lombard. "Life is too short to hold grudges."

There was an uncomfortable silence before Morley said, "Well...Jen and I had best go home, now. See you later, Phil. Keep in touch." He and Jennifer got up and left.

"Goodbye," said Lombard as he followed Morley and Jennifer. He closed the door behind them...and suddenly felt exhausted.

But there was one more thing he had to do before going to bed.

Lombard slowly dragged himself into his bedroom and opened up the small, wooden box on his oak dresser. He picked up the letter inside the box and read it, his thumb running across certain words that left a chilling effect on him. He had read it a long time ago, but felt the need to read it again. The person who had written to him had left a return address on the envelope so he could write back to the person and keep in touch (or maybe even visit), but he had neither the courage, nor the time to write back or visit this person.

Still, reading this letter gave him a sense of security. And yet at the same time, it left him with a raw feeling in his heart.

Lombard folded up the letter and put it back inside the box. He closed the box and softly ran his fingers against the smooth wood. He was suddenly taken back to his childhood at the orphanage, to when he had been dared to climb up the tree and across the branch and to jump from the branch to the fence. He had succeeded without a scratch the first time, but nearly killed himself the second time.

Lombard chuckled at the memory. Afterwards, he had actually told Morley (then Richardson) that he would be living safely from that moment on.

If only he knew...


	4. Don't Forgive and Don't Forget

4

**Don't Forgive and Don't Forget**

It was no use.

No matter how many layers of blankets she piled on her bed, no matter how many jumpers she wore over her nightgown that was ideal for both summer and winter (it kept her cool during the summer and warm during the winter), no matter how many fans she turned off, Vera would lie in bed feeling cold and numb, inside and out. She'd think of how her day started on Indian Island and ended in her own house. She'd wonder if she would've lived to see her house again had the boat not rescued her and Philip.

And she would wonder what Hugo was doing right now, as usual. She had heard that the events of Indian Island were already on the radio once the police finally gave her the chance to go home. What was Hugo's reaction? Was he glad she was safe? Or was he disgusted that she hadn't been killed? Did he hate her that much?

Vera was startled by a creak. She kept every inch of her body still, a practice she was used to back on Indian Island. Whenever she heard a noise, however slight, she would keep herself absolutely still for about five minutes and then relax.

"It's just the wind," she told herself. "You're being ridiculous. You killed that judge. He can't harm you now."

Not even this could convince her to relax herself, so she stayed tensed up, her heart beating wildly. The shadows on her wall began to dance before her eyes. There was a silhouette of a woman talking to a small child, telling him he could swim out to the rock. Next to the woman and child was a man with a noose, preparing to strangle the woman...

Vera sat up in bed, suddenly fully alert. Was someone trying to break in?

"_Miss Claythorne, why can't I swim out to the rock? I want to swim out to the rock..."_

"Shut up, Cyril," she said suddenly.

_CrrEEAAkk_

Vera grabbed her alarm clock and picked it up, preparing to use it as a weapon. "Who's there?" she said sharply.

There was no answer.

"_You know I love you, don't you?"_

"If you come one step into my room, I'll kill you," she said in a louder voice.

"_You can go to the rock, Cyril."_

"AAAAHHHH!" Vera screamed as she leaped out of bed and blindly tossed her alarm clock in the dark. She quickly scurried back into bed and underneath the covers, shaking. She knew then that she couldn't stand to be in this house one second longer without going mad.

Vera once again leaped out of bed and ran down the hall and out of her house and down the road, into the darkness. She knew where she was going and she didn't care if she was staying there for the rest of her life.

* * *

"Do you think Vera's okay?" asked Evelyn Barclay as she sat up in bed next to her husband, Richard Barclay.

"Well, the news on the radio said she and another person were the only survivors, didn't it?" said Richard.

"I suppose," said Evelyn slowly. "Still, she's my sister and I can't help but worry about her. I think I'll go over to her house and check on her."

As though on cue, there was a knock on the door.

"Maybe that's her now," suggested Richard.

"I'll go check," said Evelyn. She got out of bed and walked down the hall (but quietly as to not wake her eleven-month-old son, Derek, up), down the stairs, and to the door. She opened it and saw a visibly shaken up Vera.

"Evelyn," breathed Vera. She collapsed into Evelyn's arms and sobbed in her shoulder, "I have to stay with you tonight. There's just no way I can sleep alone."

"There, there," said Evelyn gently. "I'll prepare the guest room for you. I could even sleep with you, if you like."

Vera sniffled and nodded, blinking through her tears.

Evelyn hugged Vera extra tightly and whispered, "Thank God you're safe. I don't know what I would've done if..." She didn't finish, but there was no need to.

"You wouldn't mind if I stayed here for a while, until I feel more comfortable being by myself, would you?" asked Vera, calming down a bit.

"No, of course not," assured Evelyn. "You stay here as long as it takes."

"As long as it takes," repeated Vera softly to herself as Evelyn lead her to the guest room.


	5. The Reunion

5

**The Reunion**

One week came and went. Lombard and Vera went on with their lives separately, though their thoughts would occasionally drift to the times they shared together. Lombard would think of the rare occasions when Vera would smile at something he'd say. She looked so much more beautiful when she was happy than when she was sad, which was often. Likewise, Vera would think of how, in spite of Lombard's wolf-like grin, there was something friendly, something warm about that grin.

But whenever they'd think of each other, they'd quickly tell themselves chances of ever meeting again were very slim and to forget about it.

If this was fate's plan, then the story might as well end right here. But as fate would have it, Lombard woke up on the one-week anniversary of being rescued from Indian Island feeling...odd. He had a feeling _something_ queer would happen today, but _what?_

That was when the smoke filled Lombard's nostrils.

Suddenly fearful, Lombard quickly sprinted out of bed and opened the door—only to be greeted by flames licking the wall in the living room. He quickly slammed the door shut. He had enough time to grab the wooden box before throwing himself out the window (glass and all) and onto the ground. He then did the only sensible thing there was left to do: Run.

* * *

Bit by bit, Vera was recovering from that horrible weekend on Indian Island. She still felt somewhat fearful, but Evelyn helped her pull through with plenty of love and care. Today, on this beautiful morning, they were taking a walk through the park. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and the park was chock full of children and their happy parents playing together.

"That Miss Brent sounds like a cold-hearted...well, it's a word I can't really use around children," said Evelyn.

"Oh, she was!" said Vera. "She didn't feel even the slightest bit of guilt over poor Beatrice Taylor!"

"That's not the reason you don't want to go to the funerals, is it?" asked Evelyn.

"No, not at all," said Vera quickly. "It just wouldn't feel right, me being here...and them being dead. And I especially wouldn't want to run into the judge's grieving friends or family members."

"Understandable," nodded Evelyn.

As the two women continued to walk, Vera noticed a running man who resembled Philip Lombard.

_Wait._

Vera stopped at the same time Lombard stopped right in front of her.

"Oh," said Lombard. "Miss Claythorne. How have you been?"

"I've been...okay," said Vera slowly.

"Is this the other survivor?" asked Evelyn.

"Oh yes, this is Philip Lombard," said Vera quickly. "Phil—Mr. Lombard, this is my sister, Evelyn."

"Pleased to meet you," said Lombard stiffly.

"Likewise," said Evelyn.

Lombard and Vera stood there awkwardly before Lombard said, "My house is on fire."

"Too bad," said Vera before her senses were suddenly alerted. "Right _now?"_ she said sharply.

"Yes, right now!" said Lombard.

"Have you called the fire department?" asked Vera.

"No, I didn't have time to do that," said Lombard. "By the time I realized there was a fire, I only had enough time to grab this box before throwing myself out the window and running."

"So that explains some of your cuts," said Evelyn. "We'll take you to my house right now and get you all bandaged up and we'll call the fire department from there."

* * *

"I'm probably going to regret asking this, but _how_ did your house catch on fire?" asked Vera.

Lombard had been taken to Evelyn's house and had his bruises (which were only minor cuts on his arms) bandaged in band-aids and had gotten changed into some of Richard's spare clothes. The fire department had been called and was on their way. In the mean time, Lombard and Vera were passing the time by having a conversation in Evelyn's kitchen while Evelyn served them lunch.

"It's an embarrassing story, but since you asked," admitted Lombard before explaining, "I had gotten up earlier that morning to make myself some toast and it was taking a while to cook, so I went to my room to wait a few minutes and I fell asleep. By the time I woke up, nearly the entire house was in flames."

Vera smiled and held back a laugh.

At that moment, Richard came in through the door holding Derek and saying, "The doctor said there's nothing to worry about; Derek just had a bit of colic but should be all right now—hello," he said when he noticed Lombard.

"This is my husband, Richard Barclay," said Evelyn, getting up from her chair in the kitchen. "And this," she gestured to her son, "is my son, Derek. He'll be celebrating his very first birthday real soon."

"Fee-wa," said Derek.

"Yes, Derek, it's me, your auntie Vera," nodded Vera. "This man is Philip Lombard. Can you say that?"

"Fee-wa," Derek repeated.

Vera sighed, "It takes him a while to remember names, but he's only a baby, after all." She noticed Lombard had a sad look in his eyes as he watched Richard shrug and carry Derek upstairs to his bedroom with Evelyn following behind, as though he was reflecting on a life that could've been for him, much like how she used to reflect on the life that could've been for herself and Hugo. She decided to take Lombard's mind off of it and said, "So what's in that box that's so valuable, you had to save it before escaping?"

Lombard shrugged. "Oh, just some old letters and objects with sentimental value to me." It was his turn to change the subject: "So you're an Aunt."

"Yes, I am," said Vera awkwardly. "I didn't think there was much use in mentioning my family on Indian Island—thinking of them and what their reactions might be if I died was too painful."

"I never knew my family," said Lombard softly. "I was placed in an orphanage right after I was born."

"Oh," said Vera, feeling even more awkward. "Well...I've known my family all my life. There's my sister, Evelyn, whom you've just met. And I have a mother and a father who have come by to visit every so often and they're doing so now more than ever after...you know...and then there's my cousin Fleta. She's _quite _the character. Her own antics as a teenager resulted in her getting pregnant and my father sending her off to a convent—she does have parents in case you're wondering, but they agreed to it because it was shameful to them."

Vera suddenly stopped and blushed. _Why did I tell him all that?_ she thought. _I'd better stop before I say something stupid._ But she didn't: "Oh, and one of my uncles killed my grandmother on my father's side and then killed himself. When he grew up, I mean."

Lombard laughed, "Well, your family sounds more interesting than mine!"

At that moment, the phone rang. Vera got up and walked up to the phone and answered it, her face an interesting shade of red that made her more attractive than usual to Lombard. "Hello?" she said. "This is the Barclay residence...uh-huh...yes...oh..._oh_...that's too bad...I see...thank you." She hung up. "That was the fire marshall. He said the fire was caused by exactly what you said, and that your house isn't _completely_ in ruins, but is unliveable for the next few weeks." She slowly said, "If you need a place to stay..."

Lombard grinned. "Then I might as well make myself right at home." He leaned back on the couch before Vera said, "Except...there's only one guest room and _I'm_ using it, so you'll have to sleep on the couch."

"Why?" asked Lombard.

This was becoming more and more embarrassing to explain. Vera slowly said, "Well...the thing is...it isn't really considered to be very..._proper._"

"What isn't proper?" asked Evelyn coming downstairs.

Vera explained the situation to her.

"I see," nodded Evelyn. "Well, you have your choice, Mr. Lombard: You can either sleep on the couch, or you can share a bed with my sister, as long as you don't, er...take advantage of her or anything."

"I wouldn't even dream of it," said Lombard. "I suppose I'll _try_ to sleep on the couch."

Vera suddenly felt relieved. As much as she liked Philip, she wasn't quite ready to share a bed with him, even for...non-sexual purposes. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm just not ready to live by myself just yet."

"It's all right," said Lombard with a wave of his hand. "I think I'm going to enjoy myself here just fine."


	6. Life With Lombard

6

**Life with Lombard**

In the afternoon, Lombard and Richard went through some of Richard's clothes to pick out which clothes Lombard would keep for the time being. The fire department had managed to save most of Lombard's clothes (and they managed to save _all_ of his underwear, thank God), but the rest of them were burnt.

"I'll need this suit for my next meeting on Tuesday," said Richard, going through most of the suits. "This is one of the more casual suits, so you can have that. I never liked this tie all that much, so here you go."

"This is the seventh tie you've given me," remarked Lombard. "If you hate the ties all that much, why did you buy them?"

"Oh, they were gifts from my mother, who has absolutely _no_ taste," said Richard. "But whatever mother says, mother goes. Two of my girlfriends in the past were chased off by her when she drove them crazy. Evelyn was the only one who could put up with her behaviour." He mused, "I suppose that's why I married her: She's strong in the head and heart. Forgive me for asking, but have you yourself ever considered marriage, Mr. Lombard?"

Lombard hesitated before saying, "Yes. A long time ago. But the woman left me when I went to propose to her." He laughed, "Ironic, isn't it? Well, it was many years ago. I'm leaving it behind me and looking towards the future." His thoughts briefly drifted to Vera, but he shook them out of his head.

* * *

Meanwhile, Evelyn and Vera were taking Derek out for a stroll. So far, the day appeared as though it was going to continue to stay beautiful.

"That Philip Lombard appears to be quite charming, even if he left twenty-one men to die," remarked Evelyn as she pushed Derek's stroller.

"He is once you get to know him," said Vera. "Or at least, that's what I'd _assume._ I only knew him for a few days after all, so how am I to know?"

"You know," said Evelyn, suspecting she was venturing into dangerous territory, "I noticed there was some...tension between the two of you."

"Tension?" asked Vera. Then she got it. "Oh! Oh no, we're just acquaintances, barely even _friends. _I suppose I _would_ like to take advantage of the opportunity and get to know him a bit better, but I don't think it'll actually _go_ anywhere."

"I think it would be good for you if it did," said Evelyn. "You haven't allowed yourself to connect to another man ever since Hugo."

Vera fell silent. Not even her own sister knew the truth about Cyril and Hugo; all she knew was that Hugo left Vera because he thought she deliberately caused Cyril's death. What she didn't know was that his suspicions were correct; Vera had led her to believe Hugo was just grieving intensely over Cyril and had gone through a stage where he blamed everyone. She didn't want to even _think_ of what Evelyn's reaction would be if she knew.

_If you only knew,_ thought Vera, gently stroking Derek's cheek.

* * *

As the afternoon wore on, Lombard and Vera barely got an opportunity to say more than one word to another. At supper, they finally had a chance to talk, though they weren't alone with Richard and Evelyn and Derek.

"I really hope there isn't going to be another war," said Vera. "We just got through one of our own, thank you very much."

"Must we talk of war with Derek at the table?" asked Evelyn, who was spoon feeding Derek in his high chair. "Let's talk of more cheery things."

"Right," said Lombard. "Perhaps the stock market will finally get itself back on its feet and there will be more job opportunities."

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," said Lombard, standing up. He went to answer the door—and was surprised to see Jennifer standing there. "Oh," he said. "Jennifer. What a surprise."

"Seeing you here is a surprise, too," said Jennifer. "I only came to talk to Mrs. Barclay about something. I didn't know you were staying here."

"My house burnt down this morning," said Lombard uncomfortably.

"My sympathies," said Jennifer. "May I please speak to Mrs. Barclay?"

Lombard wordlessly opened the door a bit further for Jennifer to come in. He called out, "Mrs. Barclay? Someone wants to speak to you." He then went into the living room and put his head in his hands, ignoring the words between Jennifer and Evelyn. The timing was _not_ right. There was another single person living under the same roof; what would Jennifer think?

_Why should you care what she thinks?_ thought Lombard. _And what would make her think you and Vera were...well, you know!_

A few minutes later, he was aware that someone was sitting next to him. Then the voice of Vera Claythorne spoke: "Do you know the woman who just spoke to Evelyn?"

Lombard lifted his head up. "Yes," he admitted. "Jennifer Morley. She used to be Jennifer Hayes. She was a former love of mine. My first love."

_Jennifer Hayes...why does that name sound so familiar?_ thought Vera. Out loud, she said, "I understand. Getting over your first love can be painful. It was hard for me to get over Hugo. Although, I'm not sure I'm _entirely_ over him," she added softly.

Lombard looked at her curiously. "Is that the name of the man who was involved?" he asked.

Vera nodded.

"What was the name of the kid you drowned?" asked Lombard.

Vera's eyes grew wide and she quickly said, "Don't you _dare_ talk about it while my sister is within earshot. I don't think she heard, but if she knew the truth, she would _never_ forgive me."

"You mean to tell me that your own sister doesn't know about you-know-what?" asked Lombard, who was growing more and more surprised with Vera's behaviour. "Does anyone else in your family know the truth?"

Vera was silent.

"Didn't you tell _anyone?_" Lombard burst out.

"Not a soul," she said. "Except you. Please, can we talk about this _later?_"

"If you're going to be so touchy about it," shrugged Lombard.

Vera got up and said, "I'm going to help Evelyn with the dishes. We'll talk sometime tomorrow in somewhere private."

As she walked into the kitchen, Lombard thought, _A woman of mystery—I love it._

* * *

Later that night, Lombard (who had managed to fall asleep on the couch, which was actually quite cosy) woke up in the middle of the night to screams. Instinctively, he shot up and ran towards the source, but he was surprised to see Evelyn showing up at the door of Vera's room. "You stay out here," she instructed. She went into Vera's room and soon, the screams stopped. The sound of soothing words was heard, and soon, there was silence.

When Evelyn came out, she said, "Vera just had a nightmare. She's been having them ever since she got here, not that I blame her. I always get up and comfort her until she goes back to sleep. I'm really worried, though. I hope she's eventually able to get a good night's sleep."

_Me too, Evelyn,_ thought Lombard. _Me too._


	7. Alone At Last

7

**Alone At Last**

Vera did not get a chance to tell Lombard about Hugo and Cyril the next day or the day after that; Derek had gotten over his colic and now had a cold and needed constant attention from his parents. Even then, Vera did not want to give Lombard the details because even then, there was still a chance Evelyn or Richard would walk right by getting something for Derek. Instead, she talked to him about other things.

"Jennifer's name sounds familiar," said Vera as she and Lombard took a short walk around the block. "I think I might have met her somewhere."

"Perhaps in another life," said Lombard, suddenly nervous. Had Vera met Jennifer when she was pregnant? If so, did Jennifer tell her anything? He quickly changed the subject: "I heard you last night."

"You did?" asked Vera, casting her eyes downward.

"Yes," admitted Lombard. "Personally, I don't blame you for your nightmares, with what we went through and all. Just be thankful you're dreaming about _something._ I've had dreamless nights ever since I got back from Indian Island."

"You're the lucky one," said Vera . "You don't have dreams of that judge coming around a corner and strangling you with that noose, or of a little boy drowning you in the sea."

She was beginning to get upset, so Lombard said, "Tell me more about that cousin of yours. She sounds quite interesting."

Vera slowly took her mind off of her nightmares long enough to say, "I still recall the day we first met. We were little girls, back then." She smiled. "She tricked me into saying a naughty word around my parents. She told me to use the word 'shit' in one way or another." She blushed as Lombard laughed.

"Now she sounds like a _very_ interesting character!" he remarked.

"Well, she's not so interesting anymore," said Vera. "She's a very different person now. She's far more mature and serious."

"Oh, then, she sounds like a real bore," sighed Lombard.

"Oh, I almost forgot," said Vera quickly. "She's getting married in October and Evelyn and I will be bridesmaids. I don't think she'd mind _too_ much if I brought you along as a wedding guest."

"Sounds wonderful," said Lombard cheerfully.

* * *

On the third day, Evelyn and Richard were taking Derek for a doctor's appointment, leaving Lombard and Vera behind. From the moment they stepped out the door, there was a tension between Lombard and Vera so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

For a minute, neither one of them said anything. They both stood there in the living room, feeling kind of awkward, before Lombard spoke: "Here we are...alone at last."

"Yes," said Vera uncomfortably as she sat down on the couch. "We're alone."

"You know what this means, don't you?" asked Lombard.

Vera tensed up. "What?"

"This means you owe me an explanation about that kid you killed," said Lombard matter-of-factly. "What did you think it meant?"

Vera blushed. "Er, I thought...never mind."

"No, go on, tell me," encouraged Lombard.

Vera looked down and muttered, "Just...things."

"What _kind_ of things?" asked Lombard, sitting down next to Vera.

"If you continue to pressure me, I won't tell you about Cyril," blurted out Vera.

"So that was the kid's name, eh?" said Lombard. "Cyril? Wait—was his name Cyril Hamilton?"

Vera nodded.

"I recall reading about that kid's death a few years ago," remarked Lombard. "The newspaper I read didn't mention your name, though."

"No," said Vera. "I requested not to have my name in print. The last thing I wanted was to be mobbed by people telling me how much of a hero I was, but people who had attended the Coroner's inquest spread my name around town and I kept getting compliments on how brave I was, but in time, everyone forgot about it, though they did occasionally bring it up in conversation with me. Even then, I refused to talk about it."

"Then why are you talking to me about it?" asked Lombard.

Vera suppressed the urge to smack Lombard across the face and pretended she hadn't heard what he had said: "Hugo and I were in love. I wanted to marry him _so_ badly, but I couldn't. You see, his nephew had inherited the family fortune when his father died, and Hugo was next in line."

A faint smile spread across Lombard's lips. "I think I can safely figure out the rest from here," he said in an almost snide tone. "Cyril was in the way of your chances for a future with Hugo, so you drowned him."

"Not _directly,_ no," admitted Vera. "But when he asked if he could swim out to the rock, I...I said yes. And I waited until he was far out before swimming after him."

"Something tells me it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment."

"No, it wasn't. One night, the idea came to me and I planned it out over the next few weeks. One day, while we were at the Hamilton's vacation home, Hugo had to go to Newquay to find a decent job. That was the day..." She didn't finish that sentence.

"Since you're not married, I assume that Hugo left you?" asked Lombard.

Vera nodded and said, fighting back tears, "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Please."

Lombard realized he had crossed a line, so he got up and left Vera alone for a few minutes. During those few minutes, he thought about what Vera had just told him. Well, he had wanted to know more about what Vera had done to earn her place on Indian Island, and now he knew. And yet...he didn't feel entirely satisfied knowing this. What she had done was despicable, yes, but somehow, he just couldn't hate her for it.

After about five minutes, he went back into the living room and said, "You know, Vera, I think it's only fair that I tell you about my crime. We rogues and murderers need to stick together, you know."

Vera shot up from the couch. "Rogues and murderers!" she exclaimed.

"Well, that's what I am," shrugged Lombard. "Only my story isn't quite as complex as yours. It's a ghastly story, I'll admit to that. But what I told you on Indian Island was absolutely true; when our food supplies ran low, I took whatever supplies the natives had and went off. Morley was horrified by what I had done and refused to have even a small bite, even though I kept offering. He nearly died, but somehow managed to survive. On our way back to England, we got caught in this brush fire. Morley was saved by the other men, but I got burned—badly. Oh, don't look like that," he said when Vera winced. "It just made me stronger. Well, anyway, it weakened me to the point where I spent two months in bed and was nursed by...Jennifer," he said softly.

Vera realized something: "Morley...is he Jennifer's husband?"

Lombard nodded and said, "Well, that's all I have to say about the matter. Enough talk of murder." He then changed the subject to something he instinctively knew would interest Vera: "I think Gabrielle Turl really is a marvellous actress; she just chooses tripe films."

"I wouldn't say _all_ of her films are tripe," said Vera. "I liked The Queen's Handmaiden, but The Last of the Borgias was a bit much. I didn't find her character to be very believable at all..."

* * *

Evelyn and Richard returned half an hour later, happy to report that Derek was almost over his cold and just needed a tiny bit of medicine. When they returned, however, Lombard and Vera were discussing Gabrielle Turl.

"...silly as that film was, I appreciated Snow Upon the Desert because it mirrored how my own parents met and fell in love somewhat," Vera was saying. "Except my father didn't rape my mother and she wouldn't fall in love with him even if he did. I was surprised, though, that they were able to get away with that. I hear that film was banned in America because of it...oh, hello, Evelyn," she said cheerfully. "How's Derek?"

"He'll be just fine," replied Evelyn. "He's almost over his cold; he just needs a bit of medicine. We're not interrupting anything, are we?"

"Oh no, we're just discussing how ridiculous and over-the-top Gabrielle Turl's films are," said Lombard.

"Especially Snow Upon the Desert," spoke up Vera.

The two resumed their discussion and Richard carried Derek up to his room, while Evelyn stood there and pondered, before a smile spread across her face.

_Looks as though these two lovebirds are blossoming just fine,_ thought Evelyn, smiling.


	8. Comfort in the Dark

8

**Comfort in the Dark**

On Friday night, Richard had to go out to an important dinner party, Evelyn was hit by a brutal shift at the hospital, and Derek had to be dropped off at his paternal grandparents' place as they offered to take care of him for the night, thus leaving Lombard and Vera alone once again. When everyone left at around eight, Lombard and Vera prepared themselves some supper and talked.

"Thank God Evelyn didn't have leftover tongue for us!" sighed Vera as she took a bite out of her chicken. "If I even _saw_ one more tin of tongue, I'd be sick!"

"Amen to that," nodded Lombard.

"And hopefully, my parents won't come with a tin of it when they visit tomorrow," said Vera.

"Your parents are coming by tomorrow?" asked Lombard.

"Yes," said Vera. "According to Evelyn, they're coming by sometime tomorrow morning just to check up on me and make sure that I haven't killed myself yet."

"Don't say that," said Lombard sharply. He put one hand on hers. "I'd hate for you to take your own life. I'd miss you."

Vera said slowly, "I think I'd miss you, too."

She was tempted to curl her fingers inside his hand, but instead gently pulled away and resumed eating her dinner. The last thing she needed was to further complicate her feelings about the experience by falling in love with a fellow survivor.

* * *

Black.

Darkness.

Oblivion.

Those three words best described Lombard's dreams later that night as he slept on the couch. Once again, he was having a dreamless night. In spite of Vera's insistence that no dreams were better than nightmares, Lombard couldn't help but wish to dream about _something,_ even if it was those damn natives.

Lombard's dreams of endless oblivion were suddenly interrupted by screams, causing him to instinctively leap from his couch and run towards the source of the screams, which came from their usual area: Vera's bedroom.

He paused as he put his hand on the doorknob. Vera was a lady of virtue, and virtuous women, naturally, did not like for men to walk into their rooms and get into bed with them. After all, wasn't she reluctant to share a bed with him when he first arrived?

But it wasn't like he was going to take advantage of her or anything. He had broken one or two of the Ten Commandments during his lifetime (who was he kidding—he broke four or five), but even Lombard knew taking advantage of a woman in distress was too vile for the likes of him. He was simply going to comfort her, as Evelyn had done whenever she had a nightmare.

And of course, Evelyn was not here and would not be back for a few hours.

Vera would not be able to wait that long.

This in mind, Lombard opened the door and ran in to see Vera violently thrashing back and forth in bed, screaming, "NO! DON'T DO IT! I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY!"

"Vera?" said Lombard, gently shaking her. Then he said in a louder voice, "Vera?"

But she continued to scream and thrash back and forth.

_Damn it, what does Evelyn usually do to wake her up?_ Lombard thought, growing anxious.

His eyes landed on a cup of water beside Vera's bed that had only been drunk by a few sips. An idea quickly came to him, and he put it to use: He picked up the glass of water and splashed it in Vera's face the next time she thrashed in his direction.

To his relief, it worked. Vera's eyes widened open and she let out a yelp and bolted up in bed. She panted as though she had actually faced demons in her own room, beads of water and sweat pouring down her face. She looked up and saw Lombard—and sobbed.

Lombard sat down next to Vera and gently wrapped his arms around her. "There, there, Vera," he said softly. "It was just a bad dream."

"I was so scared," sobbed Vera. "Cyril, he—and the judge—they were coming to get me! They chased after me with ropes and seaweed and—and—oh God!"

Lombard said nothing. He just held Vera and gently rocked her back and forth until she had finally cried herself to sleep.

When he felt her go slightly limp, he gently laid her down in bed. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, especially with the moon illuminating her face. It was hard to imagine this was a very troubled woman at first glance.

Lombard smiled and got under the covers. He put his hand in Vera's and gently stroked it until he, too, fell asleep.

**A/N: Get those dirty thoughts out of your head; THAT'S not going to happen for several more chapters! Also, I hope Lombard isn't acting **_**too**_** OOC in this chapter? Or that I'm boring you with the progress in Lombard and Vera's relationship? It's just that I want to portray it in a realistic manner by taking things slowly instead of rushing it all at once like you usually see in a romance fanfic.**


	9. Caught!

9

**Caught!**

At around three o'clock in the morning, Evelyn was _finally_ permitted to go home, much to her relief. She was dead beat. As she drove home, she thought, _I hope Vera didn't have another nightmare. Then again, she's been okay for the past two nights; as long as I stay with her in her bed, I can always just gently calm her down whenever she starts to have a nightmare before it gets its absolute worse._

_Then again, she does have Philip,_ she reasoned. _And he doesn't seem like the type who would take advantage of her. He cares about her an awful lot._

This thought eased Evelyn's nerves as she drove home in the dark. Philip wasn't like most men who were after just a cheap feel. He struck her as a genuine man. A morally ambiguous man, yes, but genuine just the same as long as he wasn't trying to put on a charade of his personality.

But in spite of his questionable moral ethics, he seemed like a genuinely good man who cared deeply for Vera.

Evelyn smiled. No matter how much Vera denied it, _something_ was destined to happen between the two of them sooner or later. Her smile briefly flickered as she thought _I just hope that Philip has enough sensitivity to spare Vera's heart._

* * *

When Evelyn finally returned home, the first thing she noticed as she walked in was that Philip Lombard was not on the couch. She had a suspicion as to where he was, so she gently tip-toed into Vera's room—and sure enough saw Lombard curled up next to Vera in bed.

Evelyn instantly assumed the worse and started to storm up to the bed, but then thought, _Wait. What if Vera just had another nightmare and Philip was just comforting her and decided to stay in case she had another nightmare?_

Just to make sure, Evelyn lifted up the blankets. To the length of her understanding, there didn't appear to be any evidence that any clothes were actually taken off.

Still, if Vera didn't know of Lombard keeping her company, it would be a nasty shock to her when she woke up the next morning.

This thought was what made Evelyn shake Lombard and hiss, "Wake up, you silly ass!"

"Mmph, wha--?" said Lombard as his eyelids slowly fluttered open. He woke up to see Evelyn shaking him with a half-furious look on her face. He suddenly remembered where he was and bolted up. "This isn't what it looks like," he quickly said.

"Shush!" Evelyn commanded.

Lombard said in a quieter voice, "I swear I had only noble intentions, and I swear upon my _life_ that I would _never, ever_ stoop totaking advantage of another woman. Your sister had a nightmare and you weren't around, so I...I woke her up and gently rocked her until she fell asleep. I would've gone back to the couch, but then I remembered how you sometimes stay with her whenever she has a nightmare, so I decided to stay in case she had another one."

"Except _I'm_ her sister," hissed Evelyn as she yanked Lombard out of bed. "If Vera woke up next to me, she wouldn't be twice as scared as she would be if she woke up next to _you._ Now get yourself back to the couch before she wakes up."

Although Evelyn did not actually _say_ anything that sounded like a threat, the tone of her voice implied that if Lombard didn't get out of bed within ten seconds, she would drag Lombard by the ear into the kitchen and use a butcher's knife to cut off the part of the body that men use to impregnate women, so he timidly got up and crept out of Vera's bedroom and back to the couch.

Before he fell asleep, Evelyn (who had followed him) said in a somewhat gentler voice, "You seem like a good man to me and if you insist you never did anything to my sister, unless she says otherwise, I believe you. But I can tell you fancy her, so I'll tell you this: If the two of you fall in love and then you suddenly fall out of love with her, _don't_ leave her without an explanation, or break her heart in any brutal manner. Do you have even the _slightest_ idea as to what Vera went through when Hugo left her, all over a silly misunderstanding?"

Lombard knew that it _wasn't_ a silly misunderstanding, but upholding his loyalty to Vera, he slowly said, "I think I get the general idea."

Evelyn let out an exasperated sigh and a laugh. "The general idea?" she repeated. "She wanted to kill herself. She actually wanted to end her own life. _That's_ how badly Hugo hurt her. She was in love with him and absolutely crazy for him. And then when Cyril died, Hugo went through an intense grieving period where he blamed _everyone_ for Cyril's death, including my sister. So he left her. Even when she was acquitted of all blame, he left her. Do you get the 'general idea' now?"

Lombard felt disbelief that Vera would actually lie to her own sister like that mingled with pity; he had been there himself only a few years ago. So he said, "Evelyn, I understand completely what you're saying. And I assure you that I would never, ever do anything to hurt your sister. I fell in love a couple years ago and had my heart broken, too. And if I suddenly fall out of love with her, I'll be gentle and insist that we can still be close friends. How's that?"

Evelyn opened and closed her mouth a few times as though she were trying to come up with the right thing to say as she processed Lombard's words. Finally, she said, "Sounds good to me. And anyway, mother and father will be here tomorrow, so it's a good thing I found you anyway; imagine what they would've thought had they found you first!"

Lombard smiled. "I'll try my best to make my first impression a good one, Evelyn."

Evelyn suddenly realized what Lombard was doing and said, "Wait a minute. Since when do you call me Evelyn?" She put her hands on her hips and the corners of her mouth twitched as she spoke: "You don't regard me as a potential sister-in-law, do you?"

"Oh no, of course not," said Lombard quickly. "I've just grown accustomed to living here long enough that I think we should all be on a first-name basis."

"Right," nodded Evelyn. "Well...good night, Philip."

"Good night, Evelyn," said Lombard.

As Lombard lay his head down to rest, he couldn't help but wonder exactly _what_ Vera's parents would think of him upon meeting him the next morning...


	10. Meet the Parents

10

**Meet the Parents**

Lombard was having a muffin for breakfast the next morning when he heard the doorbell ring. He called out, "I'll get it!" and got up and walked up to the door. He opened it and in the doorway stood two people, a man and a woman who both looked to be in their mid-forties, the woman's soft curls framing her face and the man's jaw set firmly.

Lombard remembered what Evelyn and Vera had told him last night and smiled and said, "Good day to both of you! You must be the Claythornes!"

"Yes, indeed we are," said Mr. Claythorne, sounding as though he wasn't impressed with Lombard. "And you are...?"

"I'm Philip Lombard, and I happen to be staying here for the next few weeks until my house is fixed," said Lombard boldly.

"Oh dear, what happened to your house?" asked Mrs. Claythorne.

"I burned it down," shrugged Lombard. "Would you care to come in?"

Mr. and Mrs. Claythorne looked at him oddly, but came in nonetheless, following Lombard to the kitchen. "I was just having breakfast," said Lombard in the same, cheerful tone that was making him want to _lose_ his breakfast. "Would either of you care to have something?"

"No, we would not," said Mr. Claythorne in an almost growl.

Not wanting to sound impolite, Mrs. Claythorne quickly said, "We already had a bite to eat before coming." Then, "How's Vera doing? She still seemed to be a bit shaken up from the experience the last time we saw her."

"Well, I think she and I both are still a bit shaken up, but I think we're both making a slow but steady recovery," shrugged Lombard.

"That's right, I remember you now!" said Mr. Claythorne. "I was wondering where I'd heard your name before. You're the other survivor, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," said Lombard, thinking, _My cheeks hurt._

"Evelyn told us Vera's been having nightmares," said Mrs. Claythorne. "Is she still having them?"

"Yes, but Evelyn usually gets up to comfort her," said Lombard, hoping they wouldn't venture any further into the topic.

* * *

Vera gave her hair one last brush and smoothed out the front of her cornflower blue, half-past-knee dress. Her parents were coming today, and she wanted to give them the impression that she was recovering just fine, which, in a sense, was true. She still had nightmares, but was no longer afraid to be alone.

Vera tucked part of her hair behind her ear and walked out of her bedroom. She walked down the hall and into the kitchen—and saw Lombard talking with her parents. Shyly, she took a few steps forward and said, "Hello."

Her parents looked up and saw her. Her mother smiled. "Vera," she whispered. She got up, walked up to Vera and gave her a hug. "How are you doing?" she asked.

"Somewhat better," admitted Vera. "I'm not afraid to be by myself anymore, but I still have the nightmares."

"Oh, my poor baby," said Mrs. Claythorne sympathetically. "Thank God the boat came earlier."

"We had the pleasure of meeting this young man right here," spoke up Mr. Claythorne.

Vera separated from her mother and said, "So you've met Philip."

"_Philip?"_ asked Mr. Claythorne, raising an eyebrow.

Vera suddenly felt quite uncomfortable, but only said, "Yes. Philip Lombard. He told you his name, right?"

"Indeed I did, my dear," said Lombard, winking, causing Vera to blush.

"Are you _flirting_ with her?" asked Mr. Claythorne, sounding rather annoyed.

"Well, your daughter is a very attractive young woman, sir," said Lombard. "It wouldn't be natural for a man to _not_ flirt with her."

"Philip, stop," whispered Vera.

"So the two of you are in a relationship?" asked Mrs. Claythorne, looking and sounding amused.

Both Lombard and Vera quickly said, "No."

"I see," nodded Mrs. Claythorne. "Where's Evelyn?"

"She and Richard are picking up Derek as we speak," said Lombard. "So for now, it's just the four of us."

Vera sat down next to Lombard. For the first five minutes, neither of them said a word. The tension between them was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

Mrs. Claythorne noticed this, so she said, "I hope the two of you are at least getting along?"

"We are, mother," said Vera. "We're just friends."

"We agree on at least one thing," spoke up Lombard. "Gabrielle Turl's films are tripe. Especially Snow Upon the Desert."

"Really? I thought it was rather...charming," said Mrs. Claythorne.

"I found it to be much too scandalous," declared Mr. Claythorne. "Rape is an extremely traumatizing experience for a woman and should not be romanticized in any manner. I'm glad it was banned in America. Too bad it couldn't have been banned over here."

Mrs. Claythorne changed the subject: "The other day, I ran into Mrs. Hamilton. You remember her, Vera? She's the mother of that little boy you used to be governess for until he drowned in that tragic accident."

Vera got an uneasy feeling in her stomach and said, "How can I forget something like that—something that resulted in my going to Indian Island, all because that judge thought I was guilty?"

"It wasn't your fault, dear, and don't allow that maniac to allow you to think otherwise even for a second," said Mr. Claythorne firmly.

Mrs. Claythorne went on: "She had heard about what had happened on Indian Island and wanted to know if you were okay. I told her you're recovering little by little with each day, which I suppose is the truth if you're not afraid to be alone anymore."

"And...how is she doing?" asked Vera.

"She's putting her life back together after Cyril, piece by piece," replied Mrs. Claythorne. "It's been hard for her, but she's managing. Poor woman. I remember how awful I felt when your baby brother died at birth. At least she got to have a few years with him before he died."

Vera felt as though she was going to vomit, but was able to hold it down. She only said, "I'm glad to hear she's doing all right."

Lombard said nothing.

"Well, we have to go now," said Mrs. Claythorne as she and her husband began to head for the door. "You take care, dear."

"I will, mother," said Vera.

"Goodbye, Vera," said Mr. Claythorne as he and his wife left.

"Goodbye," said Vera right before closing the door behind them.

"Well!" said Lombard. "Your parents seem like perfectly nice folks. I doubt your father likes me, though."

"It takes him a while to warm up to any man Evelyn and I introduce to him," explained Vera. "I'm sure he'll come to like you in time." She paused before saying slowly, "You don't think that...they think there's anything..._between_ us, do you?"

"Well, I like you very much, though I'd hardly say that would account for anything," shrugged Lombard.

Vera looked at him curiously. "I asked if you thought _they_ thought anything was between us."

Lombard quickly realized his mistake and said, "Er, yes, that's—that's what I've been saying, that you're a good friend of mine, but that there's hardly anything between you and I."

His hand brushed against Vera's, prompting her to think, _Hardly?_


	11. The Enchanting Kiss

11

**The Enchanting Kiss**

At least two weeks came and went and in time, it was Derek's birthday. His very first birthday, to be precise. It was for this reason that everyone spent the week before his birthday plotting to make his first party a most special one indeed. Once the day arrived, the morning was spent putting up balloons and decorations. And since Evelyn and Richard had to attend to Derek by taking him out of the house for a nice, long walk until decorating was complete, who should be decorating, but Lombard and Vera.

"Oh, Derek's just going to _love_ this!" sighed Vera as she strung up balloons on the ceiling as she stood on the top of the ladder.

"He's only a year old, Vera," said Lombard as he strung balloons from the chairs. "He's not going to understand _any_ of it."

"Must you always spoil this?" sighed Vera. Then, "I can't believe it was only a year ago that Evelyn went into labour on the sidewalk and I rushed her to the hospital. It feels like a hundred years. Funny how time—"

Before she could say "flies", Vera slipped and began to fall off the ladder, prompting Lombard to run over and catch her in his arms before she hit the ground.

"Oh, _thank_ you," breathed Vera, before her eyes met Lombard's.

It was that feeling again, the same feeling Vera had when she first met Hugo, and the same Lombard had while on a date with Jennifer: The feeling that all of time was frozen, that it was just the two of them, paired up with intense butterflies fluttering around in their stomachs and the sensation of having just being spun around repeatedly.

This was broken when Lombard finally blinked, causing Vera to blink as well. Lombard let go of Vera and she stood up. She flushed and said, "I think we'd better get back to decorating."

* * *

Three hours later, Mrs. Claythorne had arrived with the cake, Mr. Claythorne with the presents, and Evelyn and Richard with the birthday boy, dressed up in his overalls and blue plaid shirt from his paternal grandparents.

"Make a wish, Derek!" encouraged Richard.

Derek just sat there and blinked.

Richard took a deep breath and blew out the candle. Everyone clapped and cheered.

Derek sat there and stared at his cake, wondering what these strange people wanted him to do with it. Then, he slowly dipped one hand in the frosting and smeared it in his hair. A huge grin spread across his face and he continued to dip his hands in frosting and smear it in his hair while smearing pieces of actual cake all over his face.

"Derek, no!" laughed Evelyn.

But Derek smiled and laughed as he continued to smear the cake all over himself.

As everyone laughed, Vera and Lombard both got up at the same time to clean Derek up. They turned in each other's direction and, without warning, leaned in and kissed. Not on the cheek. Not on the forehead.

On the _lips._

It lasted for about five seconds, but once again, it was a moment that seemed to be suspended in time. This time, it was not broken by a sound, but by silence. Lombard and Vera were both suddenly aware that, with the exception of Derek laughing and squealing, the entire room had gone silent. They quickly backed away and saw everyone (save Derek, who understood none of it) staring at them with expressionless faces, as though they didn't know _what_ to say or think.

For a moment, no one said or did anything. Then, Vera stood up straight, picked up some napkins, walked up to Derek, and wiped some of the cake off his face. As she spoon-fed the rest of the cake to Derek, she could've sworn she heard Evelyn whisper, "Finally!"


	12. Something There

12

**Something There**

**A/N: Yes, I use THAT song from ****Beauty and the Beast****; so sue me. 8P**

"Cake!"

Derek kept squealing that delightful word over and over as Lombard and Vera cleaned up, ignoring each other. The party was over and the parents had gone home. Neither one of them had spoken a word to each other since their accidental kiss. The mere thought of it made their cheeks flush.

_Why did we do that?_ thought Vera. _I mean sure, we've gotten to know each other quite well over the past few weeks, but...a couple? Us?_ She shook her head. _No. I promised myself I wouldn't complicate this further by getting into a romance with Philip. Although,_ she smiled, _he has proven himself to be rather charming. I still don't approve of his morals—which, I suppose, is hypocritical of me—but he's a bit of a gentleman._

She turned around and saw Lombard cleaning up some left over balloons that had popped. She smiled and went back to cleaning up her share of balloons and thought, _I think I'll just see where this goes. It might just be a friendship, but it could also be something more..._

_**There's something sweet**_

_**And almost kind**_

_**But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined**_

_**But now he's dear and so unsure**_

_**I wonder why I didn't see it there before**_

Lombard smiled to himself as he cleaned up. He was surprised that he and Vera were kissing, but he also felt a bit pleased with himself. Even though he had sworn off committed relationships for life after Jennifer, he was now strongly tempted to dive back into the waters of romance.

He turned his head to see Vera cleaning up.

_Strange,_ he thought. _I could've sworn that she was glancing at me._ He laughed and shook his head. _Wishful thinking, I suppose. On the other hand...I don't quite recall another time she ever looked at me in the same way she did when I caught her when she fell._

_**She glanced this way**_

_**I thought I saw**_

_**And when we touched she didn't shudder at my paw**_

_**No it can't be, I'll just ignore**_

_**But then she's never looked at me in that way before**_

Finally, neither one of them could stand the silence any longer. They both turned at the same time and were facing each other. They stood there awkwardly before Vera said, "So..."

"So..." repeated Lombard dumbly.

"So...why did we...do that?" said Vera slowly.

"Do what?" said Lombard nonchalantly.

"You know perfectly well what," said Vera, walking up to him. "That kiss we shared."

"Oh yes, _that,_" nodded Lombard. "Well, I suppose it was because we both got up at the same time and turned in each other's direction and it just...happened."

"Just happened," repeated Vera. "Philip, these things don't _just_ happen; they happen for a _reason._"

"Have you considered that perhaps it was because we're looking at our relationship in a whole new light?" said Lombard bluntly.

Vera looked him in the eye and slowly said, "You know...perhaps there's a grain of truth in that."

They put their brooms aside. "Does Hugo have anything to do with why you seem so reluctant to accept this?" asked Lombard.

Vera tensed up then relaxed. "Well...sort of," she admitted slowly. "It's just that...I do want to get into another romantic relationship, I really do. I promised myself at the beginning of the year that I would put Hugo behind me, but after that weekend...it's becoming harder than I thought it was, because that weekend brought up all those horrible memories all over again, so...it's difficult." Her eyes met his again and she said, "But I'm willing to try. And if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out."

Lombard smiled and took her hand in his. "I'm glad to hear that," he said. "Well, I think we're all done cleaning up here. What do you say we go out to see the latest Gabrielle Turl film that's bound to be nothing more than a load of rubbish?"

Vera smiled back. "I would love too," she replied.

_**New and a bit alarming**_

_**Who'd have ever thought that this could be?**_

_**True that he's no Prince Charming**_

_**But there's something in him that I simply didn't see**_

"Cake! Cake! Cake!" squealed Derek as Evelyn bathed him.

"No, no, Derek, no more cake," said Evelyn firmly. "You've had enough."

She dried him off with a blue towel and changed him into his diaper and baby blue pyjamas. As she walked out of the bathroom with Derek in her arms, she saw Vera and Philip holding hands and walking out of the house together.

A smile twitched onto her lips. "I knew it all along," she said softly.

_**Well, who'd have thought?**_

_**Well, bless my soul**_

_**Well, who'd have known?**_

_**Well, who indeed?**_

_**And who'd have guessed they'd come together on their own?**_

_**It's so peculiar, wait and see**_

Evelyn put a hyperactive Derek down for his nap and sat by his crib for a few minutes on a white chair, pondering about Vera's relationship with Philip. Something inside her knew this was going to last...but only time would tell.

_**We'll wait and see**_

_**A few days more**_

_**There may be something there that wasn't there before**_

"Evelyn?"

Evelyn looked up and saw Richard in the doorway. "Did you just see what I saw?" he asked.

"Well, did you see Philip and Vera walking out of here, holding hands?" asked Evelyn.

"Indeed I did," remarked Richard. "I don't think I even realized there was something there."

"Oh, Richard," sighed Evelyn. "I think it's been there all this time; they're only realizing it just now."

_**Perhaps there's something there**_

_**That wasn't there before**_

_**There may be something there that wasn't there before**_


	13. An Awkward Run In

13

**An Awkward Run-In**

"Tripe as always!" declared Lombard as he and Vera walked out of the movie theatre, having just seen Gabrielle Turl's latest film, Vikings.

"But she's still a good actress, though," pointed out Vera.

"Oh yes, she's _brilliant,_" agreed Lombard. "But that monstrosity of a film was rubbish from beginning to end. I understand Vikings was probably a metaphor for _something_, but _what?_ Vikings had _nothing_ to do with the plot. It was about some silly girl wasting her days away wishing for her prince to whisk her away to a castle...at least, I _think_ that's what it's about. You'd never know with the countless, meaningless subplots, two of which were left unresolved."

"If you can be trusted in anything, Philip, it's an honest review of a Gabrielle Turl film," remarked Vera.

Lombard raised an eyebrow. "Are you _sure_ about that?" he said slyly. "Trusting a man like me can be dangerous, Vera."

Vera smiled flirtatiously. "Well," she said, stopping and leaning against a flower box. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Vera?"

Vera did not react to the voice that said her name, for she was positive that she must've been hearing things. She ignored it and drew Philip in the by the hand and said, "So...how about we try that kiss again?"

"Much obliged," said Lombard before drawing Vera in by the waist and planting a soft, sweet kiss on her lips.

The kiss was interrupted by a small tap on Vera's shoulder. Annoyed, Vera separated her lips from Lombard's and, as she turned around, began to say, "What do you wa—"

That was when she saw Hugo standing before her.

_Hugo._

No. It couldn't be. She had to be hallucinating. Hugo Hamilton, the man whom she had lost her heart to four years ago, the man whom she had killed an innocent child for, the man who shattered her heart into tiny pieces—was standing right here in front of her, wearing standard clothing with stubble on his face.

Ever since the inquest, Vera had lulled herself to sleep each night for four months by painting a romantic scenario where Hugo approached her in her house and forgave her and asked her to marry him. She would say yes, and the two would kiss passionately and make love for the first time. Then they would elope within the week and Vera would discover a few weeks later she was expecting their first child and she, Hugo, and the baby would be a happy little family.

She had finally ended this foolish fantasy when she fully realized the horror of her actions, and that Hugo would not be coming back for her.

And now here he was, standing right before her on the sidewalk.

And he had just seen her kissing her new love interest.

_Awkward._

"Hugo," Vera finally managed to say. "What a surprise. I haven't seen you in so long. How have you been doing?"

"Okay," said Hugo slowly. "How about you? I heard about...what happened...on the radio."

"I'm...doing better," said Vera truthfully.

There was an awkward silence for about a minute or two before Lombard said, "You must be the amazing Hugo. Vera has told me a bit about you. How do you do? I'm Philip Lombard." He stretched out his hand.

Hugo took it and shook it. Their hands separated. "Are you and Vera...seeing each other?" asked Hugo.

"Sort of," said Vera at the same time Lombard said, "Yes."

"We've known each other for a few weeks," said Vera. "We've decided to give a relationship a go just today." She shifted her feet before saying, "Hugo...can we talk, in private?"

"You!"

The three of them were startled by an furious-looking Evelyn storming up to Hugo. "I go out for a few minutes to talk a leisurely stroll, and what do I find? _You,_ of all people, talking to my sister as though nothing ever happened."

People were beginning to stare.

"Evelyn, don't," muttered Vera, but Evelyn went on anyway: "Do you have any idea—_any_ idea—what you put my sister through, all because of a stupid misunderstanding? Do you realize how much she cared for you? If I was the one who had died, do you really think Vera would've blamed _you _for my death? No, she wouldn't; she would've realized it was an unfortunate accident, grieved about it for a few weeks, and then got on with her life!"

Hugo stood there like a statue without even blinking before saying, "So she told you I blamed her unfairly?" His eyes drifted over to Vera, who cast her eyes elsewhere.

"Of course!" burst Evelyn. "Do you really think Vera would—do that? To an innocent child? Well, if you do, then Vera doesn't deserve you. She'll be perfectly happy with Philip Lombard and he'll be _twice_ the lover you ever were!" She drew in another deep breath before saying, "She wanted to _die,_ Hugo. _That's_ how badly you made her feel. Do you know what that's like—to want to die?"

"Actually, yes," said Hugo softly. "I know a thing or two about wanting to die."

Vera's insides wrenched.

"Well, Philip will never make her feel that way," said Evelyn in a quiet yet harsh tone. "He'll make her feel happier than she's ever felt. You lost—no, you _threw_ _away_—a perfectly good girl, one whose kind you'll never meet ever again. And it's all your fault. It's your loss."

And with that, Evelyn stalked off down the block. The surrounding people shrugged and went on.

Hugo's eyes met Vera's. He said softly, "Well, Vera. Looks like we don't need to talk. What Evelyn just told me said enough." And with that, he turned around and quietly walked away.

Vera's eyes lingered on the figure before she felt Lombard's hands on her shoulders. He softly said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you out here."

"No, Philip," said Vera, looking up at Lombard before once again glancing at the man who was now a stranger to her. "I needed that. I really needed that."


	14. What If

14

**What If**

The Hugo incident was forgotten within a day by Lombard and Evelyn, but it took Vera about another day before leaving it behind her and focusing on her newfound feelings for Lombard. As the weeks went by, Lombard and Vera continued to go out together more and more. They'd watch movies, go see plays, take walks in park (with caution on both their parts out of fear of running into Jennifer or Hugo), and go out dining, all of which would end with a goodnight kiss before going to their separate beds.

After about two weeks of this, Lombard and Vera went out for a walk around town one night. It was a beautiful night out; the sky was painted with stars, the air had a slight breeze to it, and the coloured leaves made themselves present on the ground.

"It's so beautiful out," remarked Vera. "It makes the world seem a better place. You'd never think there was a war going on."

"Oh, let's not talk about that," said Lombard, linking his arm with Vera's. "Not even Hitler could ruin this beautiful night, so don't give him the pleasure of doing so."

There was a bench just up ahead. The two walked up to it and sat down. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat and observed the street ahead of them. They observed the people walking by. There was an old lady walking across the street whose groceries were being carried by a nice young man. There was a storekeeper shutting up his shop for the night and talking with a friend of his.

And there was a couple walking down the streets, hands linked.

This prompted Vera to snuggle up next to Lombard and place her head on his shoulder. Lombard gently pulled Vera closer to him and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. No words needed to be said; they'd just look up occasionally and smile before looking out at the street some more.

Lombard and Vera noticed another couple passing by...but this couple was pushing a baby carriage. The father kept making funny faces at the baby, who was gurgling with laughter, and the mother would smile and point out certain objects and name them.

This site prompted Lombard and Vera to have two different flashbacks. Vera thought back to the last time she and Hugo had ever kissed...

* * *

_It was warm night, but not too warm. It was a cool night, but not too cool. It was just right. It was the perfect weather for Vera and Hugo to take a stroll down to the beach, as they had every single night. So far, there had been no rainstorms, which Vera took as a sign from up above that this was meant to be._

_Vera closed her eyes and inhaled the salty sea air before exhaling and opening her eyes to look up and smile at Hugo. "It's beautiful out tonight."_

"_Yes," said Hugo as he and Vera sat down in the sand. "It is." He turned to Vera and wrapped his arms around her. Then, he softly pressed his lips against hers. They closed their eyes and the kissing slowly grew firmer. Vera wrapped her arms around Hugo and allowed him to gently dip her in the sand._

_Those were the first few steps that they had done several times. Normally, they didn't go much further than that; they'd just continue to make out until one or the other eventually separated. This time, however, Vera could feel Hugo's hands move towards the buttons on her blouse. She felt his nimble fingers slowly undo each button until he could safely pull it off her shoulders and halfway down her arms._

_A sudden hunger within Vera was beginning to rise. This hunger was telling her, "Yes, let him do this, don't stop." And she would've succumbed to this hunger had a peculiar memory not surfaced in her mind: She and her cousin Fleta at sixteen sitting at the dinner table...Fleta foolishly giving herself away via slip of the tongue...her father's words "I knew it! I knew this would happen! I tried to tell your father, but he refused to listen! How could you let this happen to yourself? How could you disgrace the family like this?"...her mother explaining her cousin's fate to her the next morning: "Your father has sent Fleta off to a convent..."_

"_Vera?"_

_This was when Vera realized Hugo had stopped kissing her and that her blouse was not completely off; it was still halfway down her arms, but low enough to expose her bra._

"_What's wrong?" asked Hugo._

_Vera bit her lip. She wanted this; she really did. She was in love with Hugo and was ready to give her virginity to him. And yet, her cousin's fate refused to leave her mind. Oh sure, she was an adult now; she'd be perfectly capable of raising a child moreso than a teenager would...but would her father listen to that? Her father looked as though he was ready to kill Fleta when she blurted out the news; her mind wouldn't allow her to think of how her father might react if Vera herself got pregnant out of wedlock. After all, Fleta was only his niece; Vera was his daughter._

_Then again, she had Hugo. Hugo would still love her, she was sure of that; he'd be there for her no matter what._

_Then she remembered of one of the reasons why Cyril would die in just two days; Hugo barely had enough money to support himself, let alone a child. How could he support her if she got pregnant?_

"_Hugo..." said Vera slowly. "What would we do if I got pregnant?"_

_Hugo looked slightly taken aback. "Well, I'd marry you, I suppose," he said. Then he sighed, "That's right; I don't have any money. I see your point."_

_Vera sat up and pulled her blouse up back over her shoulders and buttoned it up._

"_I'm sorry," apologized Hugo. "It completely slipped my mind. I got caught up in the heat of the moment and..."_

"_It's all right," assured Vera. "I nearly did, too."_

"_Well, it's something to look forward to when I come into a fortune and can marry you, I suppose," shrugged Hugo as he and Vera got up._

_Vera held back a smile. "Yes," she said. "Indeed, I shall be looking very forward to it..."_

* * *

Vera sighed. Had she made the right decision? It had been her one chance to make love to Hugo...a chance that would never come again. But deep down, she knew she had done what was right; she would've crumbled from the emotional stress of it all and possibly miscarried or given birth to a stillborn, which would've brought upon more misery than she was already going through at that time.

While Vera was thinking about the last time she and Hugo had done anything passionate, Lombard was thinking of the time he had blown a major chance to be with the woman he loved...

* * *

"_So, is Jennifer still sick?" asked Morley as he and Lombard took a morning stroll down the street._

"_Yes, unfortunately," sighed Lombard. "She went to see a doctor yesterday. She said she had to go through some tests, and that the results should be back by this morning. As a matter of fact, she left almost an hour ago to see a doctor."_

_Morley hesitated slightly before saying, "Lombard, would you still want to continue to see the world if I told you I might stop coming with you?"_

"_What?" asked Lombard, stopping to lean against a building. "Does this have anything to do with those damn natives? I've told you already, Morley, they're just natives, and natives don't mind dying. They look upon it as an honour, unlike Europeans."_

"_That's part of it," said Morley slowly. "I don't care what you say, Lombard; a life is a life no matter what. But the main reason why is because...because I want to find the woman of my dreams, marry her, and become a father."_

_Lombard raised his eyebrows. "That's it?" he said. "You want to exchange a life of thrills for a life of diapers?"_

"_I knew you would react this way," sighed Morley. "But don't laugh now, Lombard, because someday, you might change your mind."_

_Lombard smirked. He was becoming more and more convinced that this hazardous career was having an effect on his friend's sanity. He himself failed to find the appeal in changing diapers and wiping snotty noses and giving up a few minutes of peace and quiet in exchange for someone pestering him every five minutes about a bedtime story. "You think I might change my mind?"_

"_Of course," said Morley. "Isn't there even a small part of you that wants to hold a child in your arms? To watch with pride as they win contests? To be able to say, 'that's my boy'? Or to just be a father?"_

"_Me? A father?" Lombard laughed. "You're joking, right? Haven't I already made it clear that I never want to be a father? It may be a lifestyle for some men, Morley, but it just isn't for me. The last thing I want is to be tied down for the rest of my life by some snivelling brat. Why else do you think I always use a condom?"_

"_I don't know, Phil," said Morley cautiously. "You might eventually tire of your risky life and decide to settle down and have a few kids."_

_To that, Lombard laughed and said, "Oh, Morley, you really know how to make a man laugh." He looked both directions before saying, "Just between you and me for now, I don't wish to be a father, but I do wish to be a husband. Specifically speaking, Jennifer Hayes' husband."_

_Morley raised his eyebrows. "You mean..."_

"_That's right, Morley," said Lombard, standing upright. "The next time I see Jennifer, I'm asking her to marry me."_

"_Are you sure?" asked Morey. "How do you know you and Jennifer won't have an 'accident' during your marriage? Would you still want to be with her then?"_

_Lombard looked Morley in the eye and said, "Morley, I'd be happy with Jennifer if we were living in the streets and had ten brats we couldn't afford to care for. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go buy a ring."_

* * *

Lombard willed himself very hard not to think of what had happened by the time he arrived home in the evening. By then, Jennifer was pacing back and forth in the living room, as though waiting for him, and before he had a chance to pop the question, she broke it off without even the slightest explanation why.

Why hadn't he realized it was because of what Jennifer had heard him say—or more specifically, the first half of what she had heard him say? Had she stuck around to hear the entire conversation, would she still have wanted to be with him? Or would she have broken it off anyway? Was it one of those things that just was not meant to be?

"Philip," said Vera suddenly. She lifted her head off of Lombard's shoulder and asked, "If we had a baby, do you think we would have a son or a daughter?"

"Well...I don't know," shrugged Lombard. "Perhaps a daughter. I'd like a son, though. Girls are usually into dainty things and I wouldn't be too good at the feminine things in life."

"That's why girls have mothers," said Vera in a matter-of-fact voice. "Who do you suppose the baby would resemble?"

"It might resemble a bit of you," mused Lombard. "It might have your hair or eyes, but it would most likely have my face, though, or at least my smile. They would for sure inherit the Lombard smile."

The pondering looks on their faces fell when they suddenly realized what they were talking about.

"Wait, what are we saying?" said Vera quickly. "Why are we talking about having a _baby?_ We've only been dating a few weeks; we can't picture our children _already! _After all, we don't know for certain if our relationship is going to get to...that stage."

"You are absolutely right, my dear," was what Lombard said out loud before he and Vera got up and walked back to Evelyn's house, but inside, he thought, _But wishful thinking never hurt anyone._


	15. Dreams Of You

15

**Dreams of You**

_There was a cornflower blue field. It didn't really contain cornflowers, though. In fact, all it contained was just an endless colour. The sight both baffled and amused Vera._

_Something inside her refused to let this be. No, she had to solve the mystery of this field once and for all._

_Vera bent down into the cornflower blue field and began rummaging her hands through it, picking up nothing but seeds. Desperate, she dug deep into the dirt, if there was any, but found nothing but seeds, seeds, seeds! This could not be what this field was made of! There had to be more!_

"_Having a hard time?"_

_Vera looked up and saw Philip. "Oh, Philip!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you came. I'm looking for the meaning behind this field. Can you help me?"_

"_But of course," shrugged Lombard. He bent down in the field and said, "From the looks of it, you're digging the wrong area. You think you know what you want, when the truth is, you don't know what you want at all, but deep down, you do know what you want even if you don't know what you want."_

"_Huh?"_

_Lombard laughed, "I knew you would say that." He put his hand in Vera's. His hand felt soft and warm. Together, they lowered their hands into the field and pulled out..._

"_Gabrielle Turl?!" they both gasped._

"_You didn't rape me," sighed Gabrielle Turl's dramatic voice. "You only...captivated my inner soul."_

"_So now this is __Snow Upon the Desert__," remarked Lombard._

"_I dream of you, John," whimpered Gabrielle. "I dream of you every night. I wait up in my room and pray for the day you will come and rescue me from my tower, kill my oppressors, and forever free me from this dark dungeon."_

"_Vikings__," said Lombard bluntly. "Well, this is going to be a tripe fest. Let's skip."_

_And so Lombard and Vera linked arms and happily skipped down the yellow brick road._

* * *

_Lombard was walking down a long, dark tunnel. There was no light at all. He didn't know where he was going or why. All he knew was that he had to keep walking, further and further down._

"_Philip..." said an echoing voice. "Philip...Philip..."_

_Lombard turned to the right and followed the voice._

"_Philip...Philip...Philip..."_

_Lombard finally stopped when he saw Vera, who was wearing a long, white dress and was positively glowing._

_She was an angel._

"_Vera," whispered Lombard. He ran forward and wrapped his arms around her. Then, Vera whispered in his ear, "Let's go see __Snow Upon the Desert__."_

_Lombard broke away. "__Snow Upon the Desert__?" he scoffed. "Surely you must be joking!"_

"_Love is no joking matter," said Vera firmly. "Unless it's in a Gabrielle Turl film."_

"_Well said!" said Lombard. His face turned pale. "Look out," he said, pulling Vera out of the way...just in time for a cow to crash in the exact same spot Lombard had been. The cow was a bit shaken up, but otherwise unhurt. Up above, Hugo's voice called out, "Sorry!"_

_Vera smiled at Lombard. "You saved me," she whispered. "You're my hero." She took his hand in hers and two went merrily skipping down the ocean._

* * *

The next morning, Lombard and Vera took a short stroll around the block.

"Philip," said Vera slowly, "what would you think it meant if someone you knew appeared in your dreams?"

"I don't know," said Lombard slowly. "Perhaps it means you care for them, or perhaps it just means you happen to be thinking about them at that moment. Why do you ask?"

Vera's face turned a faint pink as she admitted, "I saw you in my dreams last night."

"Really?" said Lombard. "So did I. My first dream in weeks, and it's about you, of all people. It could've been about anybody, but it was you. Isn't that strange?"

"Yes," said Vera slowly. "It is indeed strange."

They stopped walking and turned towards each other. Then, they wrapped their arms around each other and kissed.

This kiss lasted _much_ longer than their usual kisses. Once again, the feelings they had had when they first met Jennifer and Hugo were coming back again, only twice as strong. They longed for this moment to last for all eternity, to forever be suspended.

When Vera realized what this feeling was, she backed off and awkwardly said, "We should get back."

"Yes," said Lombard, taking his hand in hers. "We should."

And the two went merrily skipping down the street.


	16. Three Magic Words

16

**Three Magic Words**

Three days later, a heavy rainstorm befell the neighbourhood, forcing Evelyn and Richard, and Lombard and Vera to spend the day indoors. Derek didn't mind this too much, though.

"C'mon, Derek, one step towards Daddy," encouraged Richard.

Derek blinked at Richard before walking to the dining chair and hugging its leg.

"All right, we'll try that _again,_" sighed Richard.

Evelyn smiled and snuck a peek inside the living room. While her husband was trying unsuccessfully to get Derek to come to him, Vera and Lombard were in the living room, sitting right next to each other, pretending to be engrossed in the same book: Little Women. Vera was trying very hard to ignore her excitement of having Lombard sit right next to her; Lombard, on the other hand, embraced every second of it.

"You know," spoke up Lombard, "I really do think Jo is being rather silly. Why shouldn't she marry Laurie? He's a perfectly good match for her."

"Because," said Vera in an irritable voice for Lombard had made a comment on the story's progress at least five times now, "she and Laurie just aren't suited for one another. Their personalities are too...well..._similar._ Even so, Amy seems like a random choice to me. I think it would've been even better if Laurie had gone with Beth."

"Wild Laurie with gentle Beth," mused Lombard. "Much like wild Philip with gentle Vera."

"Oh you!" Vera snapped her book shut and got up and marched up to the bookcase.

"Why are you acting like this?" asked Lombard as he got up and followed her.

"Because everything with you _has_ to be about us," snapped Vera as she put the book back.

"Our relationship, you mean?" said Lombard.

"Yes, _that,_" said Vera tensely as she spun around to face Lombard. Part of her wanted to kiss him, and the other part wanted to slap him.

"You really are a piece of work, you know that, Vera?" laughed Lombard.

"So are you," snapped Vera.

"There you go again, acting ridiculous over absolutely _nothing,_" said Lombard. "What did I say or do?"

"Nothing," said Vera through clenched teeth.

"Then why—"

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"

By the time Vera realized what she had said Lombard already had a look of astonishment on his face. She blushed and muttered, "Now you know." She began to walk out of the living room, her face burning. Why had she said that? She had known it to be true ever since her morning walk with Philip three days ago...but what would he say now that he knew?

"Vera," called out Lombard once his mind had fully processed Vera's words.

Vera stopped and turned around, a distinct feeling of hope rising in her heart.

Lombard walked up to her, looked her in the eye and said, "Do you know why I'm calling your name?"

"Enlighten me," said Vera, crossing her arms.

Lombard put both hands on her shoulders. "Because I love you, too," was his reply. And he took her in and gave her the most passionate kiss they had ever shared thus far, ignoring Evelyn muttering, "It's about time!"


	17. Adjustment

17

**Adjustment**

Upon learning that they each shared the same feelings for one another, Lombard and Vera's relationship strengthened. From that moment on, there were more private moments, more sweet whisperings of nothing to one another, and more passionate kisses. Even so, Vera couldn't help but feel just a bit cautious. Her heart had already been broken once; she couldn't bear to have it broken again.

After about a week, Vera voiced this concern with Evelyn while washing the dishes: "I love Philip, I really do...but I loved Hugo, too. And I got my heart broken. How do I know this won't be another romance that ends badly?"

"You don't," was Evelyn's reply whilst drying off a cheesy plate. "That's why you have to take a chance."

"I'm scared, though," said Vera as she scrubbed some left over sauce off a sand-coloured dish. "What if something goes wrong and Philip blames me for it, just like Hugo? What if...what if it's just not mean to _be?"_

Evelyn gave Vera a kind smile. "Vera, when I first started going out with Richard, there was always the risk he'd find another woman and leave me. There was also the risk we'd get into a huge fight and refuse to speak to one another. Whenever you get into a romantic relationship, you always risk getting your heart broken. It's better to take that risk than to not risk at all; otherwise, you'll live a very lonely life. Remember that."

"I will," nodded Vera.

* * *

Lombard took a happy little evening stroll through the park by himself, whistling a merry tune. Vera had elected to stay at home with Evelyn "just so we can have some time apart, otherwise we'll kill each other!"

Lombard laughed at the irony of this statement. He and Vera were both murderers after all. And yet, he couldn't help but wonder if Vera wanting to stay behind had anything to do with Hugo. Surely, she couldn't _still_ be in love with _him?_ She had moved on from that, hadn't she? Why else would she choose him?

Lombard quickly shook these worries out of his head and instead focused his mind on how great things had been going so far. His mind shifted to the sound of Vera's laughter whenever they were discussing the absurdity of Gabrielle Turl's films, the electrifying sensation of their hands bound together, the soft pressure of her lips against his...

"Lombard?"

Lombard was snapped out of his enticement by the sound of Morley's voice. He turned around and saw Morley sitting on a park bench.

"Oh, hello, Morley," said Lombard cheerfully. "Don't you agree it's a beautiful night out?"

"Quite," said Morley, examining the star-painted sky. He took one look at Lombard's face and grinned. "I know that look," he said. "There's another woman in your life, isn't there."

"Indeed there is," sighed Lombard as he sat down next to Morley.

"Would she, by some chance, happen to be that Claythorne girl who survived along with you?" asked Morley. "The one whom you claimed to be 'a fellow survivor, nothing more'?"

Lombard sat there uncomfortably.

"I knew it," smirked Morley.

"Gloat all you like, Morley," sighed Lombard. "_Mea maxima culpa._" His grin stretched even further as he said, "I don't know exactly _how_ I can describe her. She's very...interesting, to say the least. Every little thing about her makes her beautiful, and it's not just the way she _looks._ It's...everything about her. I can't name one particular trait or even give an example, but...oh, you know what I mean."

"I think I do," nodded Morley. "It was that way with me and Jennifer." He hesitated slightly. "Phil...there's something you need to know. Or rather, some_one_ you'll soon know."

The grin on Lombard's face fell. "Jennifer's pregnant?" he whispered.

Morley nodded. "It's from our honeymoon. We found out just last week."

"Well...congratulations, I suppose," said Lombard uncomfortably. "You and Jennifer must be thrilled."

"Oh yes, we are," nodded Morley. "Jennifer especially. After all, this will be her first child in wedlock, and with a man who will support her."

Lombard felt a flash of hot rage, but he kept it down. "Well...I'll see you later, Morley," said Lombard, getting up and walking home, feeling less elated than he had when he first started out.

* * *

The next morning, Lombard knew he had to talk to Vera about something very important, something that was eating away at his soul. Surprisingly enough, it was not related to Jennifer or Morley. When he had arrived home the night before, he had once more read the letter inside the box, and made a firm resolution: No more secrets. What Vera saw was what she was going to get and if she didn't like it, too bad. He hadn't allowed the opinions of other people to censor him before, and he certainly wouldn't allow it now.

Lombard saw Vera sitting outside in the backyard in the grass, wearing a casual navy blue dress. God, how she looked beautiful even in casual clothes. He said, "Morning, Vera."

Vera looked up and said, "Morning, Philip. I just thought I'd come out here and sit in the sun for a few minutes. Would you like to sit next to me?"

Lombard grinned. "Vera, have you ever known me to turn down an offer to sit next to you?" He sat down in the grass next to Vera, placing the box he was carrying right next to his other side. He ran his fingers threw the morning dew before lightly running them through Vera's hair. The two embraced and began to share a passionate kiss in the grass.

For a moment, Lombard was tempted to leave his purpose behind him—to just lie here and kiss Vera like there was no tomorrow—but he knew he had to do this, so he separated and said, "There's something I have to show you."

He sat up and opened up the box. He gingerly pulled out the letter and handed it over to Vera. "Here," he said. "Read it. It's from my mother."


	18. The Letter

18

**The Letter**

_My dearest Philip,_

_I have tried writing this letter over a dozen times, but I just can't find the right way to put things, so you'll just have to accept this as it is. First off, let me say that giving you up was the hardest thing I ever had to do. It wasn't easy, but it had to be done. I was only seventeen. My parents—your grandparents, who sadly died on the Titanic along with your aunts and uncles—had thrown me out of the house. I had to rely on prostitution to earn money. You would've had a terrible life had you grown up with me. You must've thought I didn't love you when you first heard I gave you up, but I assure you, I loved you from the moment I first held you._

_Before I became pregnant with you, I worked at a bar where I cleaned up during the last few hours. Every night, some men would hang around and yell various comments at me that made me feel quite uncomfortable. My manager assured me that was just how men were and that in time, they'd stop._

_One night, on an evening in May, the manager's wife was having a baby and he had to leave early to tend to her, leaving me to clean up by myself. On that night, there was only one man: Quintin Ackroyd, younger brother of Roger Ackroyd—he's that man who was murdered thirteen years ago; no one really talked about his brother much because he was considered to be the black sheep of the family, constantly trying to drive his family into debt._

_Well, anyway, he kept flirting with me, but each time, I would refuse and tell him to back off. And each time, he'd tell me not to be so unfriendly. When he began to touch me, I threw down my mop and began to run out the back door, but I tripped and fell. Your father pinned me down, tore off my clothes, held one hand to my mouth, and raped me._

_I cannot honestly describe it, or else I shall stop. It's that painful for me. I will say this much: Rape is a horrible, __horrible__ thing to do to a woman and it is the absolute __worst__ thing you can do. It completely destroys a woman's self-worth, her soul. It takes a beautiful butterfly and crushes it and turns it into a withering moth. And if I ever hear of you doing this to another woman, I will deny having ever known you._

_It wasn't until the next morning that I learned about what happened to your father: After raping me, he went to his car and attempted to drive himself home, but he was so drunk that he couldn't tell which way he was steering, and he crashed into a tree. He died almost instantaneously. At the time, I thought, well that's the end of that._

_But then a few weeks later, my period was late. I went to the doctor, and he confirmed me to be pregnant. I was terrified. I had been trying to forget that horrible night, but you would always be there reminding me of what happened. And I was barely an adult yet myself; how could I raise a child? As I mentioned before, your grandparents threw me out when I told them. They did not care that I had been raped; all they cared about was that I had had sex at all, period._

_On the night of your birth, a cold night on the sixth of January, 1905, I slipped and broke my ankle in a dark alley and gave birth to you there. I woke up hours later in a hospital with nuns around my bed. They had found me unconscious with a baby (you) between my legs. I told them I had to give you up, but they gave me a chance to hold you. You were absolutely beautiful. I even got to name you. I was in tears when I gave you up, but I knew it to be for the best._

_Afterwards, I used the money I had earned to buy myself a small, cozy house out in the country. Now I don't mean to brag, but I was rather good at making marmalade. I made my money selling jars of marmalade for years before it finally grew into something. I never married or had any more children during that time; marmalade was my first priority. I did, however, make plenty of good friends._

_And then one day, your friend, Charles Morley, asked specifically for me to come over and serve some of my famous marmalade at his wedding with Jennifer Hayes. When I met him, he asked if I was related to you. That was when I told him yes, you were my son. He said it was too bad you weren't coming and suggested I try to talk to you afterwards and told me where you lived. I planned on seeing you later after the wedding, but after that...fiasco...I decided you needed some time to yourself first._

_Ah yes, the wedding. When you stood up and announced your name as you interrupted Charles and Jennifer's wedding vows, I realized who you were. I barely paid as much attention to the ongoing argument between the three of you as I did to the fact that at last, my son, my own flesh and blood, was standing right in front of me. When you began to storm off, I called after you and tried to talk to you, but all you were concerned about was your best friend marrying your former lover. When you snapped that you didn't want to know me, I was taken aback before crying out, "I'm your mother!"_

_When you turned around, I wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn't come out. Then, you shook your head and ran away. Even so, I secretly hoped all was not lost. I went home and kept trying to write a letter explaining everything to you over and over until, at last, I came up with this. And here we are._

_I have left my address on the envelope should you ever wish to contact me and have the two of us meet. I really want to get to know my son after all these years and see what kind of man you are. If at possible, I would even like to be a part of your life. At least think it over, for my sake. Now that my parents and siblings are gone, you're the only family I have left. Until you feel ready to meet me, know that I love you and will be waiting for you._

_With love, from your mother_

_Carolina Lombard_


	19. Invitation

19

**Invitation**

When she was done reading, Vera slowly put the letter down and looked over at Lombard. This man, sitting right next to her, was a product of rape. That alone was enough to stun her. Finding out that he had nearly destroyed his one chance to meet his own mother was what replaced the shock with an ache of sadness. At least she had gotten to know her mother long before going to Indian Island. She could only say, "Philip...I had no idea..."

"Neither did I," said Lombard, filled with memories from only a month ago. "I nearly threw away my one chance to know my mother...all because of my stupid pride." He smiled bitterly. "Right after I got the letter and finished reading it, I got the call from Morris. I met up with him, and he told me about the hundred guineas I would be offered if I went to Indian Island—I told you and the other guests about that, right? Well, it doesn't matter at any rate. What matters is that I could've turned down the offer and instead went off to see my long-lost mother on that date. Instead, my own greed got the better of me."

For a moment, his eyes misted over, but only for a moment. "It was my one chance to know the mother I never knew," he said softly. "My one chance to know _some_ of my family. And I nearly ruined it. If I hadn't survived, I would never have the chance to meet my own mother."

Vera hesitated before saying, "Well...since you and I survived, I think you still have that chance."

Lombard shook his head. "No," he said. "No way. I am not going to face the woman who gave me up."

"Philip, she was only seventeen," said Vera calmly. "And she had been _raped._ Those circumstances must be _horrible_ for a woman."

"I suppose," said Lombard slowly. "I haven't been a saint, I'll admit to that, but I am most certainly above rape. Always have been."

"So why shouldn't you meet your mother?" asked Vera.

Lombard couldn't find the right words to describe it: "I...it's just...I don't know her and...how do I know she's telling the truth? What if she's lying and the truth is that she was just some prostitute who slept around and just didn't want the responsibility?"

"Philip, I don't think she'd lie about _that,_" gasped Vera.

"You don't know her, so how can you know that?"

"I don't, but I really think you're being stubborn about this."

"I'm not being _stubborn_; I'm being _realistic_. I sincerely doubt it'll be a heart warming event. I have a reputation for having sailed close to the wind; what if she got hold of that and doesn't want to know me?"

Vera burst out, "You also have a reputation for not caring of other people's opinions. What about that?"

Lombard tried to counter-argue Vera's point, but he couldn't. Hadn't he decided only minutes before not to let Vera's opinion of him control his every action?

"Well, it looks like you don't live up to that reputation after all," said Vera coolly, getting up. She took a few steps forward before feeling one hand on her shoulder. That hand spun Vera around and brought her face-to-face with Lombard.

"Fine, I'll talk to her," sighed Lombard. "But you and your sister will be making all the arrangements. Understood?"

Vera nodded.

"Good," sighed Lombard. "We might as well do this right now and get it over with."

* * *

One week later, Vera found herself anxiously standing outside the train station. She had written a response to Miss Lombard explaining her son's situation and to meet her at the train station on this day at this time if she was interested. Lombard had insisted on staying home and waiting for when his mother arrived so he'd have more time to prepare himself.

Truth be told, Vera herself was a bit nervous about meeting her boyfriend's mother. What if she didn't like Vera? What if she thought she was unsuited for her son? What if...she heard about _Cyril?_

Vera quickly snapped up straight when she saw a woman get off the train. She looked as though she fitted Lombard's physical description: Tall, soft blonde hair starting to grey ever so slightly, and she had two distinct physical traits that Lombard shared with her: Light eyes, and a wolf-like smile.

"Carolina Lombard?" called out Vera. "Miss Lombard?"

Miss Lombard heard Vera and ran up to her. "You must be Vera Claythorne," she said breathlessly. "Believe me, I was _thrilled_ to learn my son was alive and well. I didn't catch the whole story about Indian Island, but I did hear eight people died. For a moment, I was scared my son was one of the victims."

She then said in a more cheerier tone, "So, while you're driving me over to your sister's house, tell me all about yourself."

* * *

As Vera drove all the way home, she was surprised to find Miss Lombard easy to talk to. She was very chatty and friendly and loved to converse and joke. It was hard to believe this was a woman who had been raped and impregnated at seventeen.

"I most wholeheartedly agree with you, Miss Claythorne," said Miss Lombard. "Gabrielle Turl is better off sticking to the stage! She's a brilliant actress, yes, but her films are absolute _tripe!_"

_Like mother, like son,_ thought Vera, smiling. Slightly afraid of veering into a sensitive subject, Vera said cautiously, "You know, Miss Lombard, I really do think you are one of the bravest women alive. I...I don't know _what_ I would've done in..._your_ situation. I probably would've killed myself."

Here, Miss Lombard looked rather whimsical and only said, "I think you're over-praising me, Miss Claythorne. I simply did what was right for _me._ If anything, _you're_ the brave one out of the two of us. If I had been you on that island, I would've crumbled from the mental strain of it all."

Vera smiled faintly and said, "Believe me, I'm still recovering. It'll take years before Philip and I are completely past it, but we're getting there."

"Speaking of which," Miss Lombard hesitated, "how is Philip doing?"

"He's...okay," replied Vera.

"You know, even though I never really got to know my son, I think you're the sort of girl whom he'd like a great deal," said Miss Lombard with a twinkle in her eye.

Vera's cheeks turned a slightly faded pink and she said, "Actually...we're going out."

"Oh!" said Miss Lombard, raising her eyebrows. "Then perhaps I should call you _Vera_ from now on!"

"I barely know you, Miss Lombard," laughed Vera.

"Oh, but I insist," said Miss Lombard firmly. "A friend of Philip's is a friend of mine. And you, young lady, are to call me 'Carolina' from now on. None of this Miss Lombard business."

By now, Vera had pulled the car up into the driveway.

* * *

Lombard was anxious. It wasn't very in-character for him to be anxious about _anything, _but he couldn't help it. Ever since Vera left exactly two hours and five minutes earlier, he had not once left the couch, not even when Evelyn came in holding Derek and attempted to teach him how to walk up to his parents.

"I'm going to meet my mother," he muttered, wringing his hands with tension. "I'm actually going to meet the woman who gave me up thirty-five years ago." He tried breathing in and out, but the anxiety continued to gnaw away at his conscience.

This was a mistake. He should never have shown Vera that letter. Why did letting her know of his mother matter so much? It wasn't that big a deal; she hadn't needed to know. For that matter, what in his right mind made him agree to this? Why had he agreed to meet a woman who, to the extent of his knowledge, may have lied in a pathetic attempt to excuse her past sins?

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt something grab at his leg. He looked down. There was Derek Barclay, hugging Lombard's leg as though it were a teddy bear, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"Oh, Derek!" laughed Evelyn as she walked up to Lombard, bent down, pried Derek's arms off Lombard's leg, and swept him up in her arms.

Lombard felt two emotions: Flattery, and awkwardness. A small child had actually walked up to him and hugged his leg. Did this mean Derek now accepted Lombard as part of the family? Or had it simply meant he needed something to grasp onto at the end of a journey that would seem never-ending to a toddler?

Well, he wasn't one to spend a lot of time around children, so he couldn't really tell.

Lombard heard a sound that made him lose his breath, his stomach tense up and making him quite aware he actually had nerves down there: The doorknob turning.

Without a moment to spare, Lombard got up and walked over to the kitchen, and not a moment too soon; through the door walked Vera and Carolina.

"Well, here we are," said Vera, closing the door behind Carolina. "My sister's house. There's my sister in the living room with my nephew, Derek."

Sweating, Lombard took a glass from one of the kitchen cupboards to get himself some water from the sink. He had only filled the glass halfway through when he heard Vera say, "Philip?"

Lombard tensed up and, glass in hand, slowly turned around. There was Vera standing next to the woman whom he had last seen at Morley's wedding.

His mother.

"Well...I'll leave the two of you alone to talk," said Vera awkwardly, leaving the kitchen to help Evelyn with Derek, and leaving behind mother and son.


	20. Mother and Son

20

**Mother and Son**

There was an intense silence between the two for nearly five minutes. Neither one of them spoke. Lombard just stood there, slowly sipping water from his glass, and his mother stood there, examining the polished oak counters.

Carolina was the one to break the silence: "I know the first time we met didn't go smoothly, but...but I think we still have a chance to really know each other."

Lombard laughed, startling Carolina. "You want us to really know each other," he repeated. "You want us to really know each other after my near-death experience. But you didn't want us to really know each other after my birth."

Carolina began to say, "Philip..." but Lombard went on: "I remember when I was a small child, I asked one of the nuns what had happened to my real parents. All she told me was that my mother couldn't take care of me, and that my father wasn't there with her when I was born. Do you know what I took that to mean? I thought it meant that my parents simply didn't care for me. Looks like I wasn't far off."

"Philip," Carolina took a few steps forward, "I _did_ care for you very much. It was because I cared for you that I gave you up, hoping that some kind family would take you in."

"But no one did," said Lombard, his voice reminiscent of a dull knife growing sharper with each cut. "No one ever did. I lived in that orphanage until I was sixteen. Then I went out and lived on my own and supported myself. A few years later, I became a soldier of fortune and travelled most of the world a great deal. I became known for being a good man in a tight spot, but that's not to say I was an honest man. I've done things that weren't downright _illegal,_ but not exactly within the law."

Carolina flinched. Just to rub salt in the wound, Lombard sneered, "Do you know what I did to earn my place on Indian Island? Well, do you? While I was in East Africa, my food supplies ran low, so I took whatever supplies some native tribe had and went off, leaving them with _nothing._"

Carolina's eyes were wide. "You...you left those men...to _starve?_"

"Yes," replied Lombard coldly. "I left them to die. Those men meant _nothing_ to me." His eyes met hers. "Perhaps I wouldn't have turned out this way if you had raised me," he said in the same frosty tone.

There was another silence, long and cold. Stunned, Carolina walked out of the kitchen to give herself a few minutes to think.

_I hope she's satisfied,_ thought Lombard coldly. Emotions he never knew he had felt were rushing back in: Anger, resentment, hurt. So what if his mother thought he was a cold-blooded murderer?

_So what?_

It would show her what he had become all because of her own selfishness. If she had been so keen on moving to the country, why couldn't she have brought her son with her? Why couldn't she have found the time to raise him while selling her marmalade? Why didn't she want her own son if he was the only child she'd ever had?

Then again, his grandparents hadn't wanted him either, so why should his mother?

Finally, his mother came back, still looking a bit shaken-up. "Philip..." she cleared her throat, "I...I understand how you must feel, but..."

"Oh, spare me the excuses," spat Lombard. "How do I know what you told me in that letter was the truth? How do I know you weren't _lying?_"

"Philip, I would _never_ lie about _rape!_" cried out Carolina, her eyes brimming with tears. "I know from personal experience that it's a _horrible_ thing to happen to a person, something that should _never_ be lied about, and God have mercy on your soul if you do! What did you think, that I was some _whore_ who lied to excuse my sins?!"

Lombard had not expected his mother to react this way. Her reaction opened a newfound emotion: Regret. "I...I'm sorry," was what Lombard managed to work out. "I just...I grew up never knowing my parents. So how am I supposed to act upon learning that my mother suddenly wants to know me?"

"I understand," said Carolina quietly, tears now pouring down her face. "But I never knew you, either. So how do you think it makes me feel to learn that my son is a cold-hearted man who left innocent men to starve?"

Lombard's throat suddenly felt dry. He now wished he had never told his mother of what he had done. What was he thinking? Why had she needed to know? He could only say what he had said when Morley called him out on it, and when the other guests looked down on him for it: "Natives don't mind dying."

"And you know that for a fact?" said Carolina in the same quiet tone. "You know that those men didn't want to live to see just one more year?"

When Morley said those words, Lombard scoffed at him. Hearing his mother using those words...

"They were only natives."

"Only natives," repeated Carolina. "Only natives. A person isn't _only_ a person, Philip. A person is a person no matter what."

One more stock phrase Lombard had become well-known to use came to mind and he said it, but in a meek tone, feeling like a lion that had been kicked down: "Self-preservation is a man's first duty."

"I see," said Carolina, once again using the quiet tone that made Lombard feel a bit nauseous. "All those years of looking after yourself have caused you to develop a selfish personality. Maybe you're right. Maybe you wouldn't have turned out this way if I had kept you, raised you all by myself, relying on prostitution to buy diapers and formula, to pay for your education. Maybe if you grew up with a mother like me, you would've learned that the only way to get through life is to seduce women. Maybe you would've grown up to become an even worse man than you are now...maybe you would've grown up to become a rapist, just like your father."

Lombard cast his eyes downward. Now he felt completely ashamed of his childish anger towards his mother for not keeping him. She hadn't given him up because she didn't love him; she gave him up because she wanted him to have a better life. She had been telling the truth in her letter.

And now she knew her son was a criminal.

"I'm sorry," he repeated in a much clearer tone, looking his mother in the eye. "I understand if you don't want to know me after this."

"Oh, Philip, of _course_ I want to know you!" cried Carolina. "Now more than ever after hearing of Indian Island! When I first heard, no names were given of victims or survivors. So I spent the next several weeks constantly worrying of that _you_ had been one of those victims. I kept thinking that if you had died, I'd never get to know _you_, my own son! So you can imagine the relief I felt upon receiving that letter from Vera Claythorne saying that you were alive and well. I thought, at last, now I'll finally have the chance to know my son. After all, you're the only family I have left."

Lombard knew then he had to tell his mother something: "There's something I have to tell you. Remember that woman whose wedding you were at when we last met—Jennifer Hayes?"

* * *

"That's right, Derek, come to mummy," encouraged Evelyn.

Derek took a few steps forward, looking back and forth between his mummy, and his auntie. He then walked up to his auntie and squealed, "Fee-wa!"

Laughing, Vera hugged Derek and said, "Okay, now go to your mummy."

When Vera let go of Derek and put him in Evelyn's direction, she heard the footsteps of two people walking out of the kitchen. She got up and turned around, only to see Philip Lombard and his mother, who had an extremely happy look on her face.

"Oh, it'll be another week before I can come back," she was saying. "But I've really enjoyed talking to you."

"Do you need me to drive you back to the train station?" asked Vera, getting up.

"Oh no, dear, I'll be staying with the Morley's for a few days," assured Carolina. "Thank you once again for writing to me and letting me know of Philip's whereabouts." She smiled at her son. "And thank you, for taking the time to talk to me. I hope you and Vera are happy together; the two of you are _perfect_ for one another!"

Lombard smiled back. Then, although he felt very awkward as he did so, gave his mother a hug and said, "Goodbye...mother."

"Goodbye son."


	21. Cousin Fleta

21

**Cousin Fleta**

"What about the blue one?"

"No, I much prefer the red."

"Well, I don't! I think it makes me look, well...cheap!"

Fleta had arrived four days after Lombard's meeting with his mother, bringing some potential bridesmaid's dresses with her. She had sewn them from scratch after having her cousins' measurements mailed to her. They were all quite good—but that was the problem. They were _all_ good, so finding one particular dress for Evelyn and Vera to wear was quite difficult while trying them on in Vera's guest room.

"Wait," said Evelyn. "What about black? That's what I ended up choosing at my wedding, remember? It's simple, yet elegant. Not to mention it goes with any other colour."

Fleta shook her head. "No," she said. "I had that in mind, too, but black just wouldn't go well with the theme. My wedding will be fancy, yes, but not elegant-fancy. More along the lines of...casual celebration fancy."

Fleta could tell Vera was beginning to get bored by the constant talk of dresses, so she changed the subject: "So, Vera, tell me all about that charming man Evelyn says you're seeing."

Vera smiled shyly.

"Come on, you can tell cousin Fleta all about what sort of dirty things you get up to," teased Fleta.

"Fleta!" gasped Vera.

"Would you expect a question about mere kissing to be in-character for me?" said Fleta playfully.

Vera cleared her throat and said, "Well, we're beginning to get passionate, but I can assure you, Philip Lombard and I most certainly have _not_ been...doing that. Nor do we plan to."

"Philip Lombard," said Fleta slowly. "I think I've heard of him. Avon told me a friend of his knew a 'Philip Lombard' who had once been to France to participate in certain activities that came very close to breaking the law. Could that be the same man?"

"I think so," sighed Vera. "Philip used to be involved with quasi-legal matters...one of which resulted in him going to Indian Island."

"My my, has our Vera taken a liking to bad boys?" teased Fleta. "Sweet, gentle Vera falling in love with wild, dangerous men? The most dangerous thing my Avon ever did was sneak into a theatre without paying."

"And the most dangerous thing my Richard ever did was lay eyes on you," teased Evelyn.

Fleta playfully hit Evelyn with a pillow and said, "Let's get back to trying on dresses, shall we?"

* * *

Lombard took a walk through the neighbourhood to his house, out of curiosity to see how far along repairs were coming. He secretly hoped the house would never be repaired; he had gotten used to having Vera's company.

Of course, he could always just invite her over, or come over and visit her.

And yet, it wouldn't quite be the same.

A sudden thought struck him: What if Vera moved in with him?

He laughed at the idea. Vera's father would behead him if he ever caught word of it! And Lombard was quite sure he would; that sort of thing tended to be every bit as juicy as a girl having a baby out of wedlock.

Deciding not to depress himself, Lombard turned in the opposite direction and walked straight on to Evelyn's house. Even if his house were in perfect condition, there was no reason why he couldn't stay just one week longer.

At least long enough to do something very important, before anything else happened...

* * *

After about two hours of trying on dresses, they finally found something Fleta was satisfied with, and spent the time they had left talking, during which Vera gave more details about her relationship with Lombard.

"Ah, there's nothing quite as romantic as criticizing Gabrielle Turl's films," sighed Fleta in a mock-romantic tone.

"Well, have you _seen_ any of her recent films?" asked Vera.

"Just that one called Vikings," replied Fleta.

Vera briefly tensed up, the memory of her awkward encounter with Hugo flashing in her mind. Then she relaxed, and the memory vanished as soon as it had appeared. Then, she remembered something: "Fleta, do you remember that woman who was in labour that we helped a few years earlier? Was her name Jennifer Hayes?"

"I think so," said Fleta slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Philip said Jennifer Hayes was his first love," said Vera slowly. "I also recall Jennifer telling us that she left her former lover without telling him she was pregnant. You don't think that...that _Philip_ was the father of her child, do you?"

"Well, anything's possible," shrugged Evelyn. "Even if it is so, I don't see why you should think the less of him for it if _she_ left _him._ Why don't you ask him?"

Vera's head sharply turned at the sound of the door opening and Philip calling out, "Hello? Vera?"

"In here!" called out Vera. She turned to Evelyn and Fleta and said, "Do you really think I ought to ask him? What business is it of mine?"

"None," Fleta cheerfully replied. "But I think you'd be better off getting it off your chest than worrying about it for the rest of your life."

The door opened, and in came Philip. He noticed Fleta. "Oh," he said. "Hello. Who are you?"

"I'm Fleta Claythorne, Vera's cousin," said Fleta in a slightly vain tone.

"Ah yes, Vera has told me all about you," nodded Lombard. "You sounded quite...interesting."

"Well, that's because I _am_ interesting," said Fleta in the same vain tone. Then, "Evelyn and I are going to leave now and give you and Vera some privacy."

Fleta and Evelyn both got up and off the bed. They picked up the dresses, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Vera stood up and said, "Philip...there's something I have to ask you."

"Oh?" said Lombard. "What?"

The question caught itself in Vera's throat. Suddenly, she just _couldn't_ ask the question. It seemed rather rude. Who was she to ask Philip if he had had any children with another woman? Even if it was so, if Jennifer was the one who left without telling him, then he hadn't really done anything _wrong,_ right?

Vera's eyes met Philip's. She knew she couldn't just stand there like an idiot for one second longer. She just _had_ to say _something._

Finally, she came up with a good question to ask: "Do you still want to go with me to Fleta's wedding? I already talked to her, and she said it was okay."

Philip flashed his wolf-like grin. "Of course!" he said. "It'll be jolly good fun!"

He knew then that his task would have to wait—and he knew exactly _when_ to perform it...


	22. The City of Love

22

**The City of Love**

Lombard, Vera, and Evelyn all arrived in Paris on the fifteenth of October—just one day before the wedding. And already, it was beginning to look magical.

"Your house is _beautiful,_" gasped Vera as she gazed in wonder at the oak walls and cherry-red carpet.

"Well, that's because it is the soon-to-be home of Fleta Claythorne," smirked Fleta. She led the three up the oak staircase. "Avon is staying with his parents until tomorrow," she said while walking. "In the mean time, we have this place all to ourselves."

She stopped at the third door down. "This," she said, "can be your room, Philip and Vera."

"Wait, did you say _our_ room?" asked Vera. "For _us?_"

"_Oui,_" replied Fleta. She opened the door.

"But...there's only one bed," said Vera.

"And that's going to be a problem because?" asked Fleta, placing both hands on her hips.

Vera was at a loss for words. Even though she and Lombard had grown very close, she wasn't quite sure if she was ready to share a bed with him just yet. It would provide temptation...

"Just as I thought," said Fleta. "Go on in, you two lovebirds."

Lombard and Vera walked into the bedroom together and Fleta closed the door behind them, leading Evelyn down the hall to her room. The room was indeed beautiful; the carpet was the same shade of cherry that it had been downstairs, the windows had an _amazing_ view of the city, and the bed spread was a nice, subtle shade of pink.

As the two put their suitcases down in a corner of the room, Lombard asked, "So, Vera, why is it that you are reluctant to share a room with me? I won't harm you."

Vera said slowly, "Well...it's hard to explain...I really do want to get closer to you, but..."

"But nothing," said Lombard. "Let's just enjoy our stay in the city of love."

He and Vera walked over to the bed. They both sat down on it. Lombard placed his hand in Vera's, causing her to look up. They both leaned in and began to kiss passionately.

Lombard put one hand behind her back and gently lowered her down onto the bed, the kissing growing more fervent...

"Ahem!"

They both stopped and shot up. There, standing in the doorway, were Vera's parents.

"Mother," said Vera, her face growing hot. "Father. What a surprise! Fleta never told us you were here."

"Nor did she tell us _Philip_ was here," said Mr. Claythorne in a tone that came very close to being angry.

"Sir, this isn't what it looks like," said Lombard cautiously, getting off the bed.

Mrs. Claythorne tried to veer the subject in another direction: "We were outside in the garden and didn't notice anyone coming in."

Determined _not_ to let the subject go, Mr. Claythorne growled, "Nor did _we_ notice _you._"

Before it could turn nasty, Fleta came running around the corner. "So sorry," she panted. "I forgot this was where Uncle Fred and Aunt Clara were sleeping. You two will have to take the other room; that one has two separate beds."

"Thank _goodness,_" sighed Mr. Claythorne.

Lombard and Vera speechlessly got up, picked up their suitcases, and walked out of the room, fiercely embarrassed.

* * *

Thankfully, the incident was never mentioned again for the rest of the day. Even so, this did not prevent Vera from thinking about it at bedtime while getting changed in the bathroom.

Vera smoothed out the front of her nightgown before noticing her reflection in the mirror. The woman she saw was not the same woman from before the Indian Island ordeal, nor was it the same woman from afterwards. It was...a changed woman.

Vera did not know _how_ she had changed. She just _knew._ She knew deep down there was a part of her that would never be the same thanks to what she had gone through that faithful weekend in August. Now tonight, that change was becoming more apparent than ever.

What was it that made her notice this change? Was it...what had happened between her and Philip earlier that day?

Or more specifically, what _nearly_ happened?

Vera couldn't bring herself to _think_ of what might have happened if her parents had arrived later. Would she and Philip have stopped eventually?

Or would it have gone one step further?

Vera let out a sigh. She was deeply in love in Philip, that she was certain of. How deeply, she was not sure. She knew this was the man whom she would eventually give her virginity to.

She wanted it to be Philip, she truly did.

But she wasn't ready just yet.

Why exactly wasn't she ready? Was it because she was afraid it would seal her commitment, closing out the possibility of a reconciliation with Hugo?

Vera closed her eyes. Blackness and a slight tingle of purple danced before her as she willed herself very strongly not to think of Hugo. Why was it that Hugo seemed to interfere with her growing relationship with Philip? She no longer thought of him constantly, the way she had on Indian Island, but that didn't stop him from coming back to haunt her once in a while.

Vera let out a breath and her eyes fluttered open. Once again, she saw the changed woman staring back at her. The old Vera would've allowed her thoughts of Hugo to interfere with any potential relationship she may have had with another man. The new Vera would not allow that. She'd allow this relationship to blossom to its full potential and not allow anyone to get in the way, _especially_ not Hugo _or_ Cyril.

"_Miss Claythorne, why can't I swim out to the rock?"_

Vera shook her head and just like that, the memory vanished. She smiled. She wasn't refusing to make love to Philip because she was afraid of commitment; she was refusing simply because she wasn't ready, and she would make love to him when she was good and ready.

That was all.

A knock on the door startled Vera and brought her back into reality. "Vera? I'm decent now. How about you?"

"So am I," called out Vera from the other side. She opened the door, walked into the bedroom, and took the bed facing the window. Lombard, who, as promised, was wearing his pyjamas, took the opposite bed.

"Excited about the wedding tomorrow?" asked Lombard, pulling his covers up over him.

"A bit," said Vera, taking Lombard's cue and pulling her covers up as well. "Thankfully, it's been less stressful than Evelyn's wedding. I suppose it's probably because Fleta is less of a perfectionist than Evelyn. And also because my future in-laws are more tolerable than the Barclays." She yawned, "Good night, Philip."

"Good night, Vera," said Lombard, turning over on his side. He pulled open a drawer, and took out the item he had brought with him, just to give it one more glance, before putting it back in the drawer and closing it. So far, Vera had not spotted it.

So far, so good.


	23. Fleta's Wedding

23

**Fleta's Wedding**

Everyone woke up bright and early the next morning to prepare for Fleta's wedding, which was to be held at around five o'clock in the late afternoon in the backyard.

"Do the lanterns go here?"

"No, they go _there!_"

"Here?"

"No, no, a little to the left...not _your_ left, _my_ left!...Just right...no, wait, I didn't mean to the _right_, I meant...oh, forget it; let _me_ do it!"

"All that work for just one wedding," remarked Lombard as he and Vera ate their breakfast on the morning porch, observing Fleta barking orders.

Vera sipped her tea before saying, "To be honest, my sister got this way on her wedding day, only worse. Much, _much_ worse. She eventually calmed down ten minutes before the ceremony. After that, it was as though nothing stressful had ever occurred. Then again, that's exactly what makes a wedding so magical: There's all that stress, and then when the ceremony takes place, you forget about all you went through in preparation for the wedding. I certainly hope my own wedding isn't quite as stressful."

Lombard took a bite out of his toast.

* * *

At last, it was only five minutes before the wedding, and everything was beginning to unfold nicely.

"How do I look?" asked Vera, smoothing out the front of her sleeveless navy-blue dress, her hair softly curled.

"Beautiful," Lombard replied.

Vera smiled. "Well, I suppose you should wait outside and sit in one of the chairs."

"See you later," said Lombard as he walked out the door, across the lawn, and took a seat right up front.

Right next to Mr. Claythorne, whose wife was sitting on his opposite side.

Lombard smiled and said, "So, how's everything going with you, sir? Vera tells me you're trying to find a new job."

"And what business is it of _yours_ to ask how my business is doing?" asked Mr. Claythorne.

"None, sir," said Lombard quickly. "I'm just trying to start up a conversation to pass the time until the wedding begins."

"Well, I'm still searching," said Mr. Claythorne. "More jobs are now available due to the war and all, but none of those jobs interest me. I think I just might say to hell with it all and start my own business. My dream has always been to start my own newspaper business called The Claythorne Times with my wife as my assistant. But until that goal is a bit more reachable, I think I'm going to find a simpler job. What about yourself, Mr. Lombard? What do you do for a living?"

"Nothing at the moment," replied Lombard. "I used to be a soldier-of-fortune, but I think I'm going to give that up now, after that little mishap on Indian Island. After all, I went there under the impression I was going to do something for Mr. Owen. I've risked my life several times before, but I don't think going through that psychological torture all over again would be worth it."

"What exactly did you think Mr. Owen would get you to do?" asked Mr. Claythorne.

"Oh, just things," shrugged Lombard.

"Things like...?"

"Things like things that aren't exactly legal."

"Oh." Mr. Claythorne blinked. "So you've broken the law."

"Oh no, never, sir," assured Lombard. "I would never do anything illegal, and the things I did weren't _illegal_; they just weren't within the law."

"Forgive me for interrupting your conversation," interrupted Mrs. Claythorne, "but what exactly did you do to go to Indian Island if you've never done anything illegal? I mean, I have no doubt that Mr. Owen was mistaken when he thought Vera...well...but what could you have done that would make Mr. Owen think you deserved to die?"

"Oh, I left twenty-one men to die," said Lombard cheerfully. Even though his mother had made him feel like an ass for doing it, he decided he might as well be truthful with his might-be-future in-laws.

Mr. and Mrs. Claythorne stared at him oddly before Mr. Claythorne said, "Could you be a bit clearer on that, Mr. Lombard?"

"Well," said Lombard, "a friend and I were in East Africa, and our food supplies ran low, so I took whatever the natives had, and went off."

"Leaving twenty-one men to starve," said Mrs. Claythorne dully.

"Not quite the act of a _pukka sahib_ I'm afraid," sighed Lombard. "But back then, my philosophy was that self-preservation was a man's first duty."

"Is that still your philosophy, Mr. Lombard?" asked Mr. Claythorne, beginning to wonder just what his daughter saw in this man.

Before Lombard could answer that, the sound of violins playing 'Here Comes The Bride' was heard. The three of them sat back and observed the ceremony.

Lombard gently rubbed his pocket and pulled out the small box. He took one last peek at the ring within before closing the box back up and putting it in his pocket.


	24. The Big Question

24

**The Big Question**

After the vows between Avon and Fleta were taken, everyone sat down at various _blanche_ round tables in the garden, eating their dinner and talking.

"My, Matthew looks so grown up in his suit!" commented Evelyn. "Doesn't it seem like it was only yesterday we first met him as a small child, Vera?"

"Oh yes!" nodded Vera after taking a sip of her iced tea. "I still think of him as the little boy hugging to his mummy tightly."

Lombard said nothing and only ate his chicken in silence. He was beginning to grow impatient. He needed to ask Vera a very important question, but wasn't sure exactly _when_ to ask it. The timing _had_ to be just right, or else everything would be ruined...

_Ding-ding-ding!_

"Attention!" called out Avon in his thick French accent. "I would like to propose a toast." He lifted up his glass. "Here is to my beautiful wife, sitting right here at this table before me. Here is to my new son, to whom I will be the best father I can. Here is to my new family, whom I already love deeply. And most of all, here is to _amour!_"

"To _amour!_" declared all the guests, and they clinked their glasses and took a sip.

Lombard decided to take advantage of the opportunity. He stood up and said, "Well said, Mr. Emlyn! _Amour_ is indeed the best thing that can ever happen to a man. It can lift a man's spirits up, it can guide him through the bad times, it can help him see the good times, and most of all, it can bring out the best in a man. I would be a perfect example."

His eyes looked out to each and every person looking in his direction, and he went on: "To say that I will completely forget what I went through on Indian Island would be a bold-faced lie. I will never forget the fear, the panic I felt for nearly four days straight, and then the shock, the relief I felt when the boat arrived early. I will never again be able to accept an invitation to a party without caution. And I will never forget the fact that because of my own folly, I nearly lost the chance to get to know the little family I have.

"But," he turned in Vera's direction, "I will never forget the faithful day I first met this graceful, beautiful, intelligent woman sitting right here before me, Vera Claythorne. We first met on the train heading for the Oakbridge station which would lead us to Indian Island. We each sat opposite each other, but never spoke one word. At the time, I thought she was quite attractive in a schoolmistress way, one who'd be able to hold her own, in love or war.

"We finally spoke in the cab that drove us down to the docks. It was an innocent conversation; we were talking about our reasons for being there, and what the Owens must be like until we arrived."

Once again, he looked out at everyone. "I'm sure you all know the rest of the story. What you don't know is of the private talks Vera and I would have together. We'd talk about whom we thought was the murderer, but we would also talk of other things to take our mind off of it. We didn't completely trust each other, given the circumstances, but it was enough.

"Then came the day we found Dr. Armstrong's body on the beach." He paused slightly. "I cannot bring myself to think of what might've happened if the boat had arrived later. Would we have killed each other? Would the murderer have gotten us? In any event, what's important is not what _could have_ been, but what _is._ After we were rescued, we never saw each other again for a week. My thoughts would occasionally turn to Vera, but I dismissed these thoughts as wishful thinking, for I was convinced that we would never see each other again.

"The day we met again could be said to be a twist of fate. I consider it to be a twist of my own stupidity." He laughed. "You see, I had gotten up earlier that day to make myself breakfast. It was taking a while to cook, so I went to my room to wait a few minutes and I fell asleep. By the time I woke up, nearly the entire house was in flames."

A small crowd lightly laughed.

"I used what common sense I had left to escape and who should I stumble upon while running, but Vera and her sister. They were kind enough to allow me to stay with them for the next two months while waiting for my house to be repaired. As those weeks went by, Vera and I began to develop a relationship that slowly blossomed.

Lombard turned back to Vera. "Now I can safely say we are both deeply in love with one another and the idea of life without each other is unbearable, so I have no choice but to ask the most important question of my life."

He then got down on one knee, pulled out a small box out of his pocket, and opened it, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

Lombard then asked the question he had been longing to ask for days: "Vera, will you marry me?"

Vera got up from her chair and stood there for about ten seconds, gazing down into Lombard's sincere eyes.

"I..." she began to say. Tears filled up her eyes and she burst out, "Oh Philip, _yes!"_

She leaped down and threw her arms around Lombard, resulting in both of them falling to the ground, Vera on top of Lombard, kissing him more passionately than ever. When they broke for air, sounds of applause and cheering filled their ears.

Vera took the ring and slipped it on her finger. She smiled once again at Lombard, not caring that they both probably had grass stains all over their formal wear. All that mattered was that they were no longer just in love.

They were engaged.

* * *

**A/N: What do you know—two chapters in one night! You don't see that from me very often, lol! Well, as I'm writing this, I'm waiting for the big episode of season five of ****Desperate Housewives**** to premiere, and I had to do something to pass the time! **

**Any-hoo, stay tuned for the next chapter and find out dear old mummy and daddy's thoughts on this...**


	25. Parental Guidance

25

**Parental Guidance**

"Oh, Vera, _congratulations!"_ exclaimed Evelyn as she and Vera walked into the house at the end of the reception. "You must be _thrilled!_ I know how much you _adore_ Philip!"

"I know," said Vera, trying not to look as excited as she felt. "I can barely look forward to the day we get married."

"Evelyn!" called out Fleta's voice. "I need your help!"

"Coming!" Evelyn shouted. She turned to Vera and said, "I need to go help Fleta with something. See you later."

Evelyn walked out the door at almost the same time Lombard came through the door. He ran up to Vera and said, "I shall call my mother and tell her the news before getting ready for bed." He kissed her hand and said, "See you in the morning, _ma cherie._"

"_Bonne nuit, mon cheri,"_ replied Vera, using the other hand to stroke his cheek to pull him in and give him a kiss.

They separated. Lombard smiled and walked to the stairs and up, looking down at Vera as he went.

"I think he really cares for you, you know."

Vera turned around to see her mother standing in Evelyn's place. She smiled and gave her daughter a tight hug. "Congratulations, sweetie. I really hope this will be a happy marriage for you and Philip."

She loosened and Vera got out of the hug and said, "I can't believe it. I'm actually _engaged_ to someone whom I thought would be nothing more than a fellow survivor. It feels...like a wonderful dream I'm about to wake up from."

"And you had _better,_ real soon," said Mr. Claythorne, coming in through the door.

"Father?" asked Vera, surprised at the look of mixed fury and astonishment on his face.

"How can you be so flighty, so impulsive?" asked Mr. Claythorne. "You've only known this man for three months and you're _already_ engaged?"

"Oh, Fred, you and I only knew each other for three months when you proposed to me," pointed out Mrs. Claythorne.

"Yes, but _I_ was an honourable man," rebutted Mr. Claythorne. "This Philip Lombard has practically _no_ nobility about him. Vera, did you know he left twenty-one men to die?"

"Yes," said Vera calmly. "When we were accused of our supposed crimes, he told us what had happened. Even so, he was not the man who killed all those people, nor did he record those horrid accusations. I try to keep that in mind."

"What is it about that man that makes you completely forget your common sense?" grumbled Mr. Claythorne. "Don't you even _care_ about your personal safety?"

"Of course I do," said Vera, feeling as though she were about to lose patience. "And for your information, Philip is really a good man to be around. He's polite, brave, intelligent, noble..."

"Just _what_ is so noble about him?" spat Mr. Claythorne.

Vera knew she was playing with fire, but..."One night, I woke up from a horrible nightmare, and Evelyn was out. Philip came and...held me, and comforted me until I fell asleep. And not once did he ever take advantage of me."

For a moment, Vera considered fetching the doctor. Her father looked as though he was about to have a heart attack.

"He...he...you...he was in _bed_ with _you?!?_"

"You'll have to excuse your father," spoke up Mrs. Claythorne, taking her husband by the hand and leading him away. "He knows nothing happened; he just needs a few minutes to calm down. I think you'd best go upstairs."

* * *

"You're _engaged?"_ gasped Carolina.

"Yes, mother, Vera and I are to be married in eight months and six days counting," said Lombard proudly as he spoke to his mother on the phone in the upstairs hall.

"What can I say except..._congratulations!"_ said Carolina's ecstatic voice. "Here you are, about to become a married man! My own son! I can hardly believe it!"

"Yes, I know, mother," nodded Lombard. "I can hardly believe it myself. I never would've thought that the woman whom I had a friendly chat with in the cab to the docks would eventually become my fiancée."

"I can picture it already," sighed Carolina. "You and Vera taking your vows, throwing the bouquet, marching down the aisle, sending me pictures of your children—"

"Our _children?!?_" coughed Lombard. He cleared his throat. "Ah, mother, I think it's just a bit _early_ to be thinking about _that._ And about the children...I'm not sure if I really _want_ children, after..."

"Oh, nonsense," scoffed Carolina. "In time, you'll be surrounded by at least four or five children asking you to read them a bedtime story, and you won't even have _time_ to think about what happened. Now, I don't want to cost Fleta any money with this call much longer, so hopefully we'll see each other again."

"Good night, mother."

* * *

While lying in their respective beds, Lombard and Vera turned to face each other.

"This doesn't feel real, does it?" asked Lombard.

"No," said Vera breathlessly. "Not at all. Though I'm pretty sure my father _hopes_ it isn't real."

"Oh," said Lombard. "He still doesn't like me?"

"No," said Vera, shaking her head. "He's convinced you lack nobility. Apparently, you told him of what you did to those natives. Now what in the _world_ possessed you to tell him?"

"Well, I thought that if these were to be my future in-laws, then I should be as honest with them as possible," shrugged Lombard. "They're not going to get some perfect son-in-law; they're going to get Philip Lombard. And Philip Lombard has made a few, serious errors in his life, but he's not going to keep them bottled up inside. I myself think he'd be even more upset if I lied about it and found out later."

"You didn't tell them about _me,_ did you?" asked Vera, suddenly worried. "About Hugo and Cyril?"

"No," said Lombard, turning out his light. "_You_ need to do that."

And with that, he turned over on his side and closed his eyes. Vera also turned on her side and closed her eyes, but couldn't fall asleep for another ten minutes, her mind racing from the excitement of being engaged and from what Philip had just said.


	26. For Now

26

**For Now**

The next day, Vera, Lombard, and Evelyn all arrived back to England to Evelyn's house where they were greeted by an exhausted Richard holding a sleeping Derek.

"Did Derek behave himself while mummy was away?" asked Evelyn as she came in with the luggage.

"Not much," confessed Richard.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," cooed Evelyn as she stroked Derek's cheek. "You would've been bored at Fleta's wedding." She kissed him on the forehead. "Rest now."

Vera smiled, but blocked the prospect of that being herself and Philip a few years from now; her own past experience had taught her the dangers of looking into a distant future that only had half a chance of coming true.

"You look tired," commented Philip.

"I know," sighed Vera. "I'm just happy to be off that train and home at last."

"That reminds me," said Richard, closing the door behind the three as they walked in. "I got a call yesterday, Mr. Lombard. Your house is now in good condition and ready for you to move back into at any time you please!"

The happy looks on Lombard and Vera's faces melted as quickly as a snowman's smile in July. Lombard's house was in good condition. There was no longer any need for him to stay here and burden Vera's sister much longer.

"Oh," said Lombard. "Well...I suppose I should head out the door once more and head off to my place."

"No, no, stay for a few more days," said Vera quickly. "There's no reason why you can't."

"Well," said Lombard slowly before saying, "I guess I could stay one more day. We'll make this last day extra special."

* * *

Lombard and Vera spent their last day together (as two people living under the same roof at least) walking through the park in which they had been reunited and looking back on the past few months.

"Be honest, Vera," said Lombard. "What did you think of me after I told you about my crime?"

"If you _really_ want me to be honest," said Vera, "I was scared of you. Especially when you looked into my eyes when you said, 'I left them to die'."

"So what made you no longer fear me?" asked Lombard.

"I honestly don't know," replied Vera. "I suppose it might have been...blind infatuation. I mean, I care about you _now,_ but back then, I wasn't too sure _what_ to think of you." She shook her head. "Now I want you to answer this question, Philip: What did _you_ think of _me_ after I told you about..."

She didn't go on; there were far too many people nearby. Any one of them could overhear them talking. Oh sure, she could always just flat out deny it if confronted by the police; they'd be on her side if they knew she had already been acquitted of everything. But it wouldn't prevent it from getting back to Mrs. Hamilton one way or another...

Lombard knew this, so he said, "Well, I was surprised. I had figured it out when you started talking of heavenly visitants and your denial was only a firm confirmation that you were guilty as sin. But it was still shocking to find out that a woman as sweet as you would be capable of...doing that."

"To be honest with you, I was shocked with myself, too," admitted Vera, looking down at the ground. She looked back up into Philip's eyes. "But what's done is done," she said. "I can't take it back now, so it's not much use to dwell on it. No matter how much I truly regret it."

She blinked and a single tear fell down her cheek. Lombard used one finger to wipe that tear away. "I'm going to miss being under the same roof as you," he said softly. "We'll still get to see each other whenever we go out, but it just won't be the same."

"Why can't I just move in with you?" asked Vera.

Lombard said, "I suppose we could do that, but I suspect dear old daddy would attempt to cut off my manhood before letting you move in with me."

Vera laughed. "Oh, he'll eventually get used to you in time. It took him a month to adjust to Richard and when he did, he greeted him as a son. It's just...taking him a while longer to adjust to you."

Vera suddenly stopped walking.

"What is it?" asked Lombard.

"I just had an idea," said Vera slowly. She turned to Lombard. "What if...we held a dinner where both our parents could meet each other? Your mother seems perfectly nice, I'm sure she and my parents would get along just fine."

"Interesting," mused Lombard. "I've only known my mother for a few weeks, but I don't see anything in her that would upset your parents...all right, why not? What's the worst thing that could happen?"

* * *

"That sounds _wonderful_, dear!" said Mrs. Claythorne's voice on the other line as Vera told her about the dinner over the phone later that night. "I would _love_ to meet Philip's mother!"

"And father?" asked Vera.

"Oh, you know him," said Mrs. Claythorne. "He's really a big teddy bear. I'm sure he'll warm up to Philip once he gets a chance to meet his mother. How about we hold the dinner over at my house, so that Philip and his mother can see where you grew up?"

"Sounds lovely," said Vera. "I myself would like to re-visit home."

"Well, I'd best get going, dear," said Mrs. Claythorne. "I'll see you...when do you want to hold this dinner?"

"November the tenth at the latest," was Vera's reply.

"I'll see you then," said Mrs. Claythorne. "Good-bye, dear."

"Good-bye, mother."

* * *

Vera awoke in the early morning to the sounds of someone moving in the hall. She tensed up, then quickly remembered she wasn't on Indian Island and relaxed. She sighed and closed her eyes.

About one minute later, she was aware of a soft brush on her lips. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Philip Lombard slowly pulling his face away from hers.

"Just saying goodbye," he said.

"For now, you mean," said Vera.

"Yes," said Lombard, smiling. He picked up his already packed suitcase and said, "For now."

* * *

**A/N: I figured I might as well tell you now to avoid confusion: The next chapter will be narrated from Evelyn's POV as a change of pace; after that, I'll go back to narrating in third-person unless I get the strong urge to use this technique again. Stay tuned!**


	27. The Sister Speaks

27

**The Sister Speaks**

It has been two days now since Philip has left. I must say, I rather miss having him around. He made Vera smile again, which made me smile. I hate seeing my sister unhappy.

I can only imagine the horrors my sister must've gone through on Indian Island. They were certainly bad enough to cause her to come fleeing to my house in the middle of the night. And they were bad enough to give her nightmares.

The nightmares stopped a few weeks ago, thank God, but I can tell Vera's still shaken up from the experience. It not only terrorized her, it also brought back memories of Hugo, whom she had succeeded in leaving behind her until that monster of a judge somehow got it into his head that Vera killed Cyril (that sentence alone sounds improbable) and decided it would be fun to torture her and make her believe what had happened was her fault. I wish I could describe my absolute _hatred_ towards that maniac, but I'm afraid I'm not that good a writer.

But anyway, I noticed that Vera was a bit down. She sounded less energetic when I talked to her, and would just drag her feet around the house. I finally took her for a walk around the block with my son, Derek (who just lay there in his stroller). As we began to walk, I asked her my suspicions: "Does your depression have anything to do with Philip?"

My suspicions were spot on. Vera nodded and said, "Ever since he left, I just haven't been feeling the same. In fact...the way I feel is a bit like the way I felt when...Hugo left me."

_Hugo._

I will never, ever forgive that bastard for what he did to my sister. He blamed her for his nephew's death and actually thought she would _do_ something so horrible and it never once occurred to him that what happened might have just been a tragic accident. I have never once doubted my sister's innocence, so I don't see why Hugo should have, either.

Vera turned to me, her eyes filling up with tears. "But I don't want to feel this way. It nearly destroyed me the first time; I do not want it to destroy me again. And yet, I really, really want to be close to Philip."

"You'll still be able to see him," I tried to assure her. "He gave you his address and telephone number."

"But it won't be the same," insisted Vera. "I miss having him here."

"Me too," I sighed. "He was rather charming in a peculiar way." I then said, "You know, I've noticed you have stopped having nightmares and you're no longer afraid to be alone. I think you just might be able to go back to your own house and stay there without needing me or anyone to comfort you."

Vera looked as though she were thinking deeply about what I had said before she finally said, "I suppose I could go back. It's just that I've been staying with you for so long..."

"Vera, how much help am I really to your relationship with Philip?" I asked. "You hardly even need me anymore except for some occasional friendly advice. And besides, the only real way you'll be able to move on with Philip will be if you do this on your own."

I then decided to add: "I know the experience brought back memories of Hugo and Cyril, but why should you let one bad experience with one man ruin a potentially wonderful experience with another man? If I let every bad experience stop me, I would have a miserable life."

Vera said in a small voice, "Because I don't want to go through that pain all over again. I used to dream of the future life Hugo and I would have together, and that future life never happened. Why should I hurt myself again by dreaming of what could be for myself and Philip?"

"Because," I said, "if you continue to stay in the past, your relationship will suffer even more. My advice to you is to leave your past behind you and look towards the future."

"It's just so _complicated!"_ sighed Vera. "I want to be _with_ Philip, but I don't want to become _fixated_ on him."

"I understand," I said. "The key is to use moderation. Spend as much time with Philip as you desire, but don't let this relationship be your entire _life_; just let it be your _relationship._"

"Pip."

I stopped walking. I bent down to Derek in his stroller and said, "What did you say, Derek?"

"Pip," replied Derek. Then he squealed, "Pip! Pip! Pip!"

"You see?" I said as I stood up. "Even Derek agrees with me!" I smiled. "Trust me, Vera, I think this engagement will eventually turn into marriage. Just put faith in yourself and in Philip and you'll be okay."

By now, we had arrived home. I turned to Vera and said, "If you need help packing..."

Vera smiled. "Trust me, Evelyn," she said. "I think I can do this on my own."

And deep down, I knew she could.


	28. Dinner For Two

28

**Dinner For Two**

It was at around five o'clock that Vera found herself walking up to the doorstep of her old house.

It was funny, being here again. It was as though she had been gone for years when she had only been gone a few months.

Vera unlocked the door and walked right in, her suitcase in one hand. She was surprised to actually see the inside of her own home. She had been gone so long she had completely forgotten what the inside looked like. It was as though she were seeing it for the first time, as though someone had gone and changed it.

But nothing was changed. Everything was exactly the same. The walls were the same cream-beige colour. The dining table was still where it was. Everything in the kitchen was neat and in its proper place. And the bookshelf was still the deep rouge it had been since she left.

It was funny, how you could be away from something for so long and think you had never seen it before the second time you saw it.

Just like people.

Just like Hugo.

Vera had now reached the door of her bedroom. Using her free hand, she turned the doorknob and opened it. As she walked in, she was overcome with a chill. But the window was not open. It had been closed exactly as it had been when she last saw it from the outside as she sobbed hysterically while her sister went inside and packed her things, begging to just grab her belongings and go.

Vera lay her suitcase down on the chair in the corner and began to unpack. She took out various clothing and hung them up in her closet, all the while feeling cold.

"_You strike me as being one of the sanest and most level-headed girls I've come across. I'd stake my reputation on your sanity."_

"Well, Philip, it looks like you lost," laughed Vera. "After all, I was insane for falling in love with a fellow survivor."

She paused while the middle of hanging up one of her blouses. Why was she talking to herself? Was it out of loneliness? Habit?

Vera shook her head and continued to hang up her clothing. She and Philip had only gone two days without seeing each other. She couldn't be _too_ lonely.

How was Hugo doing?

Vera stood there in a numb shock before shaking her head and moving on to putting her shoes into the closet. Why should she be concerned of how Hugo was doing if she had moved on from him? What was it about him that made her wonder how he was doing?

Was it really how he was doing in romance?

Or was it how he was doing without Cyril?

The last time the two had met ran through Vera's mind. Hugo had said he was doing okay. What did he mean by that? Did he mean he had gotten over Cyril's death? Or was he just okay in general? Had he found a job? Or a wife?

Vera winced as she recalled how their brief meeting had ended. She couldn't get mad at Evelyn for her interruption; she had good intentions in her heart...but Vera had wanted to speak to Hugo alone. It had been her one chance to make amends, and Evelyn had ruined it by revealing that Vera had been making it look as though Hugo was the one to blame.

Would the chance to make amends ever come again?

Or had it passed?

Vera had finally put away the last pair of her shoes. She stood there before sighing and falling onto the bed. She suddenly felt quite tired. She pulled her legs up onto the bed and curled up into a ball before just relaxing and letting herself spread out. She closed her eyes, wondering what to say if she and Hugo ever met again...

* * *

Vera woke up with a start and sat up in bed. Had she fallen asleep? The room was suddenly a bit darker than usual, and it looked very dark outside.

Vera rubbed the fatigue from her eyes and yawned. Her mouth felt dry and her stomach empty. Well, she knew what to do about that.

Vera got up, walked across the room, and turned on the lights. She walked down the hall and to the kitchen, where she got herself a glass of water. She began to get it from the sink when it suddenly occurred to her on whom she could have dinner with...

* * *

Lombard heaved a mighty sigh as he got changed into his pyjamas. His house was complete, and yet his heart felt empty. He knew he wouldn't be separated from Vera forever; he had told her where he lived and what number to call him with, but after two months of living under the same roof as Vera, it was difficult to imagine living without her.

He had begun to get under the covers when he heard the telephone rang.

"Who in God's name could be calling at this hour?" he grumbled as he got up and walked out of the bedroom and across the hall to the living room where he picked up the telephone and said, "Hello?"

He heard a familiar voice say, "Philip?"

Lombard's heart stopped beating; was that really...

"Vera?" he whispered.

"Yes, Philip, it's me!" said Vera's sweet voice on the other line. "I'm home! In my own house!"

"Vera, please don't tell me you called me at eleven o'clock at night just to tell me you're back in your own house," said Lombard with one hand on his hip.

"Of course not, silly!" laughed Vera in that laugh that made Lombard feel like he was being sprinkled with water. "I'm preparing dinner for just the two of us! Please come over!"

Lombard laughed, "Well, Vera, it looks as though the experience on Indian Island has finally caused your mind to snap!"

"Is that a yes?" asked Vera.

"Sure, I'll humour you," said Lombard good-naturedly. "Just tell me where you live."

"All right," said Vera. "But before I do, I advise you to dress your best..."

* * *

Lombard had indeed dressed his best when he arrived at Vera's house. He was wearing a grey suit and black tie, nearly blending into the night. He was wondering what in God's name had gotten into Vera and hoped that coming over would give him an answer.

He lightly rapped on the door and stood there for about a minute and a half before the door was opened.

In the doorway stood Vera with her hair looking neatly washed and curled, wearing the same dress she had worn at Fleta's wedding. She was positively _glowing._

"Philip!" she gasped, throwing herself into Lombard's arms. Equally grateful to see her again, Lombard wrapped his arms around Vera and gave her a tight squeeze.

They stood there in their hug for about five minutes before separating. Vera breathlessly said, "Come on in. I made chicken."

* * *

Dinner was absolutely delicious, if not romantic. Vera had thrown a white cloth on the table and lit two candles, putting one at each end. The romantic atmosphere was completed with a spot of red wine (just a spot; Vera did not want her or Lombard to totally lose their common sense).

"The whole concept of love at first sight sounds more to me like _lust_ at first sight," said Lombard as he and Vera were finishing up the remainders of their dinner, discussing Shakespeare. "Don't get me wrong; William Shakespeare was absolutely _brilliant_, but somehow, I can't quite accept the idea of two people getting married after speaking to each other only twice, and then committing suicide within three days."

"Well, it does sound a bit irrational," admitted Vera, taking a sip of her wine. "But Romeo and Juliet were teenagers and teenagers are often irrational. Have you never made any irrational decisions as a teenager?"

Lombard looked at Vera.

"Right, silly question," laughed Vera.

"What about you?" asked Lombard. "Have you ever made any irrational decisions as a teenager, Vera?"

"Well, I suppose I did," said Vera thoughtfully. "None stand out in my mind, but I was pretty sensible back then, before..."

"Hush," said Lombard, putting one hand on Vera's. "Don't think about that."

Lombard leaned in and gave Vera a soft kiss on the lips. Vera returned the kiss with a bit more fire, more passion.

They opened their eyes. "Let's take this in my room," Vera whispered.

* * *

Five minutes later, Lombard and Vera were in Vera's room lying on her bed, the making out growing more and more fierce...and yet, they hadn't gone further than making out. Vera was still a virgin and fully-clothed.

A secret part of Vera wanted this to carry on until it finally reached the stage she was confident she and Philip were about to reach. The other part wanted it to end right here with the kissing and continue at perhaps a later time.

She knew it would be wise to end it right now if she wasn't sure about how far she wanted this to go, but the other part was reluctant to end it, to cave in to what her father expected...

_Her father._

Vera quickly pushed Lombard off of her and bolted up in bed. Her father. The dinner.

Stupid her, how could she have forgotten? The dinner was to be on the tenth of November, which was coming up in just a few weeks.

If she and Philip were to make love right here, right now, would she be able to look her father in the eye if he asked if their relationship was strictly limited to kissing?

"What is it?" asked Lombard, sitting up.

"It's not you," said Vera quickly. "It's me. Or my father rather." She sighed, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave. It's just...I don't know how to say this, but...I want to wait a bit before we go much further than we've already gone."

"Oh," said Lombard. "I think I know what you mean. Afraid of dear old daddy?"

Vera nodded.

"I suppose that's understandable, given his reaction when he walked in on us in Paris." Lombard shrugged. "Oh well! It was good while it lasted."

He got up and said, "Well, Vera, it's been a real pleasure having dinner with you. When shall we meet again?"

"Perhaps next Friday," suggested Vera. "I hear there's going to be a play put on that day. Would you like to come see it with me?"

Lombard flashed Vera his wolf-like grin. "I would love to."

And with that, he closed the door to Vera's bedroom and whistled a merry tune as he walked down the hall and out of Vera's house, unaware that a nosy neighbour who had a tendency to gossip with Mrs. Claythorne every Sunday had just seen him walking out of Vera's house after having been in there for an hour...


	29. The Big Dinner

29

**The Big Dinner**

Lombard and Vera went back to seeing a lot of each other after their romantic dinner. They would go see plays or movies or sometimes just walk and talk. Each date would end with them kissing passionately for about a minute or two before Vera broke it off and said good night. They were both waiting for the _right_ time to make love, but weren't sure when it would be.

As they continued to see each other, the weeks began to blend. October gradually became November. And the first day of November became the tenth of November much more quickly than either Lombard or Vera would've endeared.

"AAARGH! NOTHING FITS ME!"

So was the cry of Vera during the mid-afternoon of November the tenth as she tried on numerous dresses while Lombard stood outside her room.

"Everything _does_ fit you," reminded Lombard from the outside. "You're just not satisfied with anything."

"Easy for _you_ to say!" cried Vera's distressed voice from the inside. "You're a man; all you have to do is just put on a suit and it instantly looks good on you; _women_ have to go through a hundred dresses before finding anything that looks just right!"

"Which is why I'm glad I was born a man," joked Lombard.

Vera opened the door by a crack and stuck her hand out long enough to smack Lombard with a pillow before slamming the door shut.

"Oh come on, I was just joking!" said Lombard, assuming Vera was in one of her 'moods' that she was usually in around this time of the month. "I just think you're worrying over what to wear for _nothing._ _I_ think you're beautiful no matter what you wear. And you know your parents think that, too. And my mother won't especially care since she already knows you and thinks you're wonderful."

Vera opened the door and came rushing out in a perfectly modest, short-sleeved black dress. "I suppose this'll have to do for now," she sighed. "It'll take us quite a few hours to get there."

"So, shall we head off?" said Lombard cheerfully, taking his arm in Vera's.

Vera smiled. "Let's."

* * *

Mrs. Claythorne was silent as she and her husband set the table for dinner, which wouldn't even be cooked for another few hours, but a bit of preparation didn't hurt.

A few weeks ago, Mrs. Bowman had come over for tea as she usually did. Mrs. Bowman had a tendency to gossip about other neighbours, something that didn't really endear her to Mrs. Claythorne, but she simply nodded and said, "Oh dear, that _is_ scandalous," while thinking about other things. The last time she came over, however, she had said something that shocked her: She had seen Philip Lombard walk out of Vera Claythorne's house in the middle of the night after having been there for an hour.

Mrs. Claythorne dared not to repeat a _word_ of it to her husband; she knew how he would react. Instead, she decided to ask Vera at a later time before jumping to conclusions. After all, Mrs. Bowman had a tendency to exaggerate; perhaps Philip had just been over for a nice chat with Vera.

But if that were the case, why would he come over in the middle of the night? Why not wait until morning?

"Clara?"

Mrs. Claythorne looked up from the dish she was in the middle of placing.

"You don't seem to be entirely focused," said Mr. Claythorne.

"Oh, well, I'm just a bit anxious about meeting Philip's mother, that's all," said Clara, placing the dish down.

"Well, she had better give me a better impression than her son did," said Mr. Claythorne, setting the forks and knives where they should be.

"Oh, now, Fred, I don't think Philip's all that bad," said Clara, putting the glasses in their proper place. "A bit questionable, maybe, but he's made our daughter happy."

Mr. Claythorne snorted, "Oh yes, a man who left twenty-one men to die is just a _bit_ questionable."

Mrs. Claythorne put down the final dish a bit roughly. She said tensely, "I admit I had my doubts about him when he admitted that to us, but as long as he's treating Vera right, that's what matters to me." She relaxed. "Fred, you saw Vera after Hugo left her over that tragic misunderstanding: She was depressed. She was _miserable._ Look at her now: She's _happy._ She's in love. If Philip is the one who is responsible for her happiness, than he is a good man in my eyes."

"I suppose," said Mr. Claythorne slowly. "But how do we know this romance won't end in Vera's heart getting broken again?"

"We don't," was Mrs. Claythorne's reply. "We're just going to have to take that chance."

* * *

It was at around six o'clock in the evening that Philip and Vera managed to pick up Carolina and drive through the countryside to Vera's house, which looked quite homely and cosy at this time of the evening.

"My, this is exciting!" remarked Carolina as the three of them got out of the car. "At last, I'm going to get to meet my future in-laws!"

"I should warn you that my father can be a bit judgmental when he first meets someone," said Vera, leading the way to the front door. "Just be careful of what you say." She looked at Philip, who simply shrugged.

Once the three had reached the maroon door, Vera lightly rapped three times. There was a ten-second period of waiting before Mrs. Claythorne opened the door, looking happy but also a bit tired.

"Oh, _hello,_ darling!" said Mrs. Claythorne as she wrapped one arm around Vera and hugged her.

"How are you, mother?" asked Vera as she wrapped her arms around her mother and hugged back.

"Oh, a bit tired, considering the meal that your father and I cooked up," sighed Mrs. Claythorne before separating. She noticed the other woman standing beside Lombard. "Oh, and you must be Mrs. Lombard. How do you do? I'm Clara Claythorne."

Carolina stepped forward and shook Clara's hand. She had been advised by Vera not to say anything about her marital status until dinner. "Please, call me Carolina," she said. "I insist. We're going to be family in just seven months, so we _must_ be on a first-name basis."

"Come in, come in," urged Clara, letting go of Carolina's hand.

The three of them came in, and one scent filled their nostrils, a scent that left Carolina delighted, but Lombard and Vera dismayed...

"Mother, did you and father make _tongue?_" asked Vera.

"Of course we did, dear," said Mrs. Claythorne cheerfully. "What's the matter? You look a bit green."

Vera bit her lip. How to say this without hurting her mother's feelings? "Oh. Um. Well, mother, the thing is...on Indian Island...the food began to run low, so..."

"So we ate nothing but tongue," finished Lombard. "And, well, tongue to this day serves as a reminder of..."

"Oh," said Mrs. Claythorne, blinking. "I see."

_Please don't let her feelings be hurt,_ Vera silently prayed.

"Well, we do have some salad, if you would rather have that instead," said Mrs. Claythorne, putting on a happy face.

"Oh no, we'll manage," said Vera quickly. "It's been four months since we last had tongue; I'm sure we'll be able to eat it now."

* * *

Vera was wrong.

She and Lombard had tried to eat the tongue served before them, but they only ate one bite and slowly chewed up the bite in their mouths like a cow chewed its curd before swallowing—no, _gulping._

There was no doubt about it.

They absolutely _hated_ tongue.

Once they had managed to swallow, Carolina broke the awkward silence by saying, "Vera has told me good things about you both. For instance, I've heard you have ambitions to start your own newspaper, Fred. I know it sounds like an unattainable goal; that's what I thought when I first started selling marmalade, but I assure you that gradually working your way up will achieve your wildest dreams."

"Why thank you for the advice, Mrs. Lombard," said Mr. Claythorne, smiling a bit.

Vera sipped her water. Maybe, just maybe, her parents and Philip's mother would be able to get along just fine.

"I'm afraid it's _Miss_ Lombard," said Carolina. "But in any event, call me Carolina. We're family, after all."

Mr. Claythorne put down his fork and knife. _"Miss?"_ he repeated.

Mrs. Claythorne put one hand on his shoulder and gave him a Look.

Mr. Claythorne relaxed and said, "Forgive me for asking, but what exactly became of your husband?"

"Husband," repeated Carolina.

"Yes, husband," said Mr. Claythorne slowly. "As in, the man you married. Philip's father?"

"Oh," sighed Carolina. "Philip's father passed away the day after my dear little boy was conceived."

"Oh," said Mr. Claythorne, relaxing a bit. "I'm sorry to hear that. It must be terrible to have your husband die the day after your first child is conceived."

"He and I weren't married," said Carolina slowly.

Mr. Claythorne tensed up. "Weren't married?" he said sharply. "Do you mean to tell me you had your son out of wedlock, Miss Lombard?"

"Yes, I did," said Carolina boldly. "Not only that, but I was seventeen having him."

"Seventeen?" spat Mr. Claythorne. _"Seventeen?!?"_

"Fred," said Mrs. Claythorne warningly.

"And he was at least twenty years older than me," added Carolina.

"_Twenty_ years _older?!?"_

"_Fred..."_

"Don't 'Fred' me!" snapped Mr. Claythorne. "Our daughter is about to marry a bastard child born to some loose tramp!"

"Don't you _dare_ talk that way about my son, _or_ me," said Carolina warningly, holding up her knife in a threatening position. "You have _no_ idea what I went through. _None_ at all."

"Oh yes, I do have an idea about what you went through," sneered Mr. Claythorne, holding his knife in the exact same threatening position. "You just couldn't control your lust for some full-grown man, so being the silly teenager you were, you _seduced_ him, then _killed _him the next day."

"He was related to Roger Ackroyd," spoke up Lombard.

Everyone (save Vera, who had her face buried in her hands) turned to stare at Lombard. "You know, that man who was murdered thirteen years ago in that case that made the papers all over Britain?" he said, trying to redeem his mother in Mr. Claythorne's eyes. "I'm his nephew."

Mr. Claythorne and Carolina turned back to each other. If looks could kill, they both would've died on the spot. "So it was that no-good brother of his whom you slept with," sneered Mr. Claythorne. "I hope you didn't charge him _too_ much for it."

"For your information, I did not _kill_ him," said Carolina through clenched teeth in a voice suggesting she was in a mood to kill. "He _died_ in a _drunk driving accident_ minutes after Philip's conception!"

Mr. Claythorne slammed his fork into his tongue (the meat on his plate, not the tongue in his mouth, though Carolina was on the verge of doing so) and sneered, "So you not only seduced that no-good _bum,_ you also seduced some _drunkard._"

"I did _not_ seduce him!" cried out Carolina, shooting up from her seat, the knife still in her hand. "_He_ came to _me!_"

"And you let him," sneered Mr. Claythorne, slowly standing up holding his knife.

"No I did _not!"_

"Then why does your _precious_ son who _killed_ twenty-one men stand here before us?"

Lombard knew that if he didn't act fast, this could escalate into violence, so he shot up and screamed, "SHE WAS _RAPED_, YOU IDIOT!"

A large silence befell the entire table. It was as though Lombard had picked up a bucket of water and quenched a very small fire in order to prevent it from turning into a raging fire that not even water could stop.

The three standing people calmly sat back down.

A red-faced Mr. Claythorne muttered, "I'm sorry."

"I hope you are," snapped Carolina. She got up from the table. "Philip," she said. "Vera. I need you to take me back to the train station right now. I think it would be best for everyone."

* * *

Lombard and Vera did not speak of the disastrous dinner for two days straight before, while coming over to visit Vera, Lombard finally got up the courage to say, "You know, Vera, that could've been so much worse than it was. It's a good thing it didn't get violent."

"It _almost_ did," said Vera stiffly.

Lombard tried again: "You know, Vera, I'll bet that when we're married, everyone will look back on how horrible that dinner was and laugh."

"_I'm_ not laughing," snapped Vera. Then, she relaxed and sighed, "Philip...let's leave that dinner behind us for now. There's something else I need to talk to you about. You see...even though we're better than we were months ago, I still don't think we've truly recovered from our little adventure. And you know, I have been told that the best way to get over something horrible is to directly confront it."

"Wait a minute," said Philip slowly. "You're not saying..."

"Yes, Philip, I am," nodded Vera. "I think we should go back to Indian Island."


	30. Places of the Past

30

**Places of the Past**

For a moment, Lombard thought that perhaps, he had misheard Vera. When her expression did not change, it became clear to him that she was serious: She really did want to go back to Indian Island.

"Vera...are you _sure?_" Lombard managed to work out.

"I've been thinking about it and yes, I'm sure," nodded Vera. "We're both doing much better than we were before, but a part of me inside doesn't feel truly over it. I feel like...I need to re-live some of that fear in order for everything to feel all right again, so I can officially leave it behind me and move on. Don't you feel the same?"

Lombard tried to find an answer to that, but failed. He wasn't quite sure if he truly did feel the same as Vera did. He rarely ever gave much thought to Indian Island, but when he did, he would shiver from the memories.

Which was exactly why he was _not_ going back.

"That sounds very interesting," said Lombard, looking for the right way to describe it. "But would we really be able to go back to the very place where we might've been killed had the boat not arrived sooner?"

"I admit I thought I wouldn't be able to go back either," admitted Vera. "But then I thought about it, and I realized that it was _because_ of the island that we began to develop pieces of what would eventually become our engagement. And it was there that I started thinking about Hugo again...and realizing what kind of person I had become."

"You're a _great_ person."

"I know I am, but I really think we need to do this so we can safely assure ourselves that Indian Island is nothing more than a particularly traumatic chapter of our lives. And besides, there'll be no one there but the two of us. We'll be perfectly safe."

If Lombard needed any concrete evidence that his fiancée was insane, this was it.

"Vera, are you sure this would do us any good? How do you know this won't bring back memories of what happened and result in us going home traumatized all over again?"

"I'm almost _sure_ it won't. Please, Philip, do it for me, if nothing else."

One look into Vera's eyes, which had become doe-like all of a sudden, and Lombard knew there was no way out of this.

"Fine," said Lombard. "But on two conditions: One, we go in a few weeks from now so we can prepare ourselves for going back."

Vera nodded.

"And two," Lombard continued, "we stay for only one day. We'll go at around, say, noon, and the boat will pick us up exactly twenty-four hours later."

"You've got yourself a deal," said Vera, shaking Lombard's hand.

* * *

Lombard contacted Fred Narracott and made the arrangements: He would meet Lombard and Vera at the docks of Sticklehaven at around eleven o'clock in the morning and drop them off at Indian Island, and pick them up the next day at around noon. And all this would be done on the third day of December, giving them plenty of time to pack and think about what they would do.

Vera spent those next few weeks calling up her mother and telling her about Indian Island. Shortly after telling, her mother asked a curious question: Where she and Philip sleeping together?

Vera was startled by this question, but gave an honest answer: "No, mother, we are not."

Vera wondered if she would be able to answer that question honestly the next time she was asked.

* * *

When it was only one week before going back to Indian Island, Fred Narracott had a talk with his wife: "You know, Millie, I think those two kids are suited for one another."

Millie, knitting a blanket for her friend's upcoming baby in the rocking chair, said, "And who are you to play matchmaker, Fred?"

"Well, don't you think they're sort of like _we _were when we first met?" asked Fred.

"I've never met them, so I can't really answer that," said Millie. "What do you think?"

"Well, _I_ think they're like us," said Fred. "Remember when we first met at your sister's party and we both stood next to each other the whole night, but never said so much as a word until the night was over? That's just what _they_ were like when I took them back to the mainland from the island. I'm telling you, the tension between those two was so thick, not even a mere _knife_ could cut it; no, it would take a _cleaver _to cut. I wouldn't be surprised at all if all that tension eventually came to its climax while going back to Indian Island."

"Since when were you one to know what would happen next in a person's relationship?" asked Millie. She had finished knitting the blanket. "Here," she said. "Don't forget to take this to Jennifer Hayes after dropping them off."


	31. Back to Indian Island

31

**Back To Indian Island**

The day both Lombard and Vera had secretly been dreading—December the third—finally arrived. They woke up in their separate homes with a feeling of dread. Neither of them wanted to go back to Indian Island, but knew deep down that they _had_ to.

"So, how are you doing?" asked Fred cheerfully upon first meeting Lombard and Vera at the docks.

"We're engaged now," said Lombard.

"Oh, congratulations!" said Fred in the same cheerful voice. "I hope all goes well!"

Lombard and Vera stepped into the boat. "So do we," said Vera.

* * *

It was not a particularly sunny day, which made the atmosphere all the more gloomy as the boat went on.

Vera got a sudden feeling of nausea, but she knew it wasn't seasickness. It was the prospect of going back to the island where she had nearly been killed.

Suddenly, she was frightened. What had come over her when she thought about going back? Why hadn't she just brushed the idea off? What had she had the idea at all?

Shivering, Vera snuggled up a bit closer to Lombard, who gently wrapped his arms around her, acting as her blanket.

Lombard coped with his own fear by imagining that they were still far off from the island, still miles away, still in the middle of the ocean where nothing could ever get to them or harm them...

"Land ho!"

Lombard and Vera looked up and the image of Indian Island that practically seemed like an illusion grew bigger and bigger...

* * *

With their luggage in one hand, Lombard and Vera silently set foot on the cursed island and headed up to the stone steps, feeling as though they were about to re-live their nightmare.

Indian Island was indeed rather strange—it was like a dream, really. A dream that they knew they had had before and were trying to recall after having it the second time.

Trying to lighten up the mood, Lombard said, "So, Miss Claythorne, I assume you are indeed Mrs. Owen's secretary?"

"_Don't,"_ said Vera tensely.

Each step taken up the stone steps felt like one more step towards their doom.

* * *

When they finally got to the house, Lombard pushed open the door. Images flooded their senses: These were the identical images they had seen only four months earlier. This was the same front hall...the same staircase...the same wide hall where drinks had been served...

"Do you think we should share a room, or sleep in the rooms we were in when we first came?" asked Lombard.

"I think we should go with our individual rooms," said Vera.

Vera walked up the staircase, Lombard right behind her, their footsteps echoing...

* * *

When Vera first walked into her room, the first thing she noticed was that everything was...unusually neat. The boatman had been here the day before to prepare everything for them when they arrived, she knew that. But there was something about this room that just wasn't neat in a natural manner.

Vera lay her suitcase down on the chair looking out the window. Something caught her eye: It was the rhyme.

That _wretched_ rhyme.

Vera walked over to the wall where the rhyme was hung up. How she could've _ever_ thought such a rhyme was _attractive,_ she would never know. What she did know was that this would be coming down.

Vera began to put her hands around the frame when she heard a noise, startling her. She spun around.

"Vera?"

Vera relaxed when she recognized Philip's voice. She walked up to the door and opened it. "Yes?" she asked.

"What do you suppose we should do now?" asked Lombard.

"Maybe we could explore the island," suggested Vera.

"Sound plan," said Lombard.

* * *

As it turned out, the island was absolutely _beautiful_ when it wasn't so threatening. Everything about it was just so natural and peaceful.

The weather had gotten a bit nicer now, so after walking around for a bit, Lombard and Vera sat down by the cliff.

"You know," said Lombard, "I don't feel quite so afraid anymore. I feel like I've been here for years." He sighed, "It doesn't feel too long ago that you, me, and Blore were right here trying to signal to the mainland and discussing what we should do next."

"That's right," said Vera, the moment suddenly flourishing in her mind. "I remember Blore wanting to go back for lunch, and my saying that if I even _saw_ another tinned tongue, I'd be sick!" She laughed, "My poor mother! I suppose I should've told her before we went, but it just wasn't on my mind at the time. It was on...other things..."

She blinked and said, "I also remember you and Blore fighting over whether or not you'd lend him your revolver. And what you said about how it was feeding time in the Zoo. I don't think any of us were quite so human that morning..."

"I don't think so, either," said Lombard. The romantic atmosphere of it being just the two of them was gone. Now, it was sombre and serious. "I think at that point, death would've been greeted as an old friend. Humans wouldn't think of death in that way, but an animal who had fought a long battle and taken many wounds would.

"And you know," he turned to face Vera, "I also remember your reaction when I asked if there was a man involved in what you did. It was almost as though you had _accepted_ what you had done..."

"I know," said Vera quietly. "I knew there wasn't much use in denying it any longer. I figured that if were going to die anyway..."

Vera lay in the ground. Lombard took his cue and lay down next to her. Neither bothered to do anything romantic. Later, perhaps, but for now...now, it seemed as though simply lying down and looking up at the sky was all that they could do.

They looked up at the sky and the passing white clouds, their eyes occasionally drifting to the cruel ocean that almost seemed to be _touching_ the sky. They'd think of nothing but how peaceful everything seemed to be and how such peace contradicted the horrible events from four months before.

After what felt like an hour (two hours?), Lombard stood up and said, "Well, Vera, I suppose we might as well go back to the house."

Vera slowly got herself up off the ground and on her feet. She and Lombard shared a gentle hug, which was all they needed at the moment.

* * *

After about five hours of sharing various memories of the experience, Lombard and Vera finally decided to prepare their own dinner in the kitchen. They had a simple salad for supper with some sliced, cooked potatoes on the side. The dinner was simple but tasty.

"Anthony Marston was a real hoot," laughed Lombard before having some salad. "It's a shame he died off first. It would've been entertaining to see how he reacted to all of it."

"Yes, he did bring some life into this place, didn't he?" sighed Vera, taking a sip of water from her glass.

Lombard looked at her curiously and smiled. "You fancied him, didn't you?"

"I most certainly did _not!"_ said Vera quickly.

"Your denial has just convinced me," laughed Lombard. "I remember the look on your face when he drove down to the docks in that car of his! _And_ when he complimented your dress at dinner, you were blushing!"

"I was _not,_" said Vera irritably, blushing at this moment.

"I know for a fact that he fancied you, too," said Lombard. "Even if he hadn't said a word about your dress, his eyes said it all. He even confided in me that you were the most attractive thing on this island. I agreed, though passively. I mean, I also found you attractive, but I didn't think much of it at the time. As the weekend went on, however, I came to find out that you're not only attractive, you're also able to keep your head—most of the time, anyway—in any situation, intelligent, graceful, and sane-minded most of the time."

"_Most_ of the time?" asked Vera, trying to hide the amusement in her voice.

"Well, there are the instances where you do something completely irrational, like call me up in the middle of the night to have dinner at your house," said Lombard, "or suggest we come back here."

"Do you regret coming back?" asked Vera.

"I'll only answer that on one condition," said Lombard, leaning back a bit casually. "You answer the question I asked earlier: Did you fancy Marston or not?"

Vera mumbled her answer.

"Sorry, I didn't quite hear you," said Lombard, leaning forward.

"I said yes!" blurted out Vera, blushing madly. "Yes, I _did_ fancy him, but _just _a bit, mind you!"

Lombard laughed. "Now I'll give you my answer: No, not really, now that we are alone together...and could do whatever we wanted, and no one back on the shore would ever need to know..."

Lombard and Vera both smiled and went back to their dinner.

* * *

After dinner, after cleaning up their dishes, Lombard and Vera went to the parlour.

"It's around nine," Lombard observed. "Around the exact same time that damning record was played."

Vera could hear the Voice echo in her ears: _"Vera Elizabeth Claythorne, that on the eleventh day of August, 1935, you killed Cyril Ogilvie Hamilton..."_

"Well, what do you know?" said Lombard walking up to the gramophone. "The boatman already has a record for us." He picked up the record beside it and began to place it in the gramophone.

As a reflex, Vera squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for something horrible...

...and then slowly opened her eyes when instead of a scathing accusation, Beethoven's sixth symphony filled her ears. And instead of seeing angry faces wanting to know why this was happening, she saw the face of a man asking her to dance. She gladly accepted.

Lombard and Vera danced close, their arms tightly wrapped around each other. After a while, Vera placed her head on Lombard's shoulder. She closed her eyes and just listened to the music, choosing not to think of the horror that had occurred in this room in the past, but of the beauty occurring in this room in the present.

They continued to slowly dance even when the music began to pick up a bit faster, and long after the music had ended, thinking of nothing but how grateful they were to be alive and here, with each other.

And for a moment, while the music was still playing, it felt as though the spirits of the victims had risen up to dance with them.

* * *

They finally went upstairs for bed at around ten-thirty, holding hands.

"So, are we still going to our separate rooms?" asked Lombard.

For a moment, Vera was tempted to answer, "No," but instead said, "Yes. I think we should."

"Oh," said Lombard, slightly disappointed, but still in a good mood from his dance with Vera. He tilted her chin ever so slightly and gave her a light kiss on the forehead. "Good night, Vera."

"Good night, Philip."

* * *

**A/N: So...I figured I might as well tell you, since it is big news for me personally, since it will be my first kind of scene: In the next chapter, as Fred predicted, all that sexual tension building up between Lombard and Vera will indeed come to its climax (c'mon, if you're old enough to be reading a T-rated fic, you know what I'm talking about). Until now, I've never written such a scene before, but I'm pretty sure it won't be graphic enough to get an M-rating, unless otherwise suggested.**

**PS Believe me, I didn't just select any classical music at random; Beethoven truly was an amazing composer and his music is so relaxing to listen to (except for his fifth, which gets me all excited). You should try to listen to some of his music at least once.**


	32. Falling Slowly

32

**Falling Slowly**

**A/N: The song used is ****Falling Slowly**** by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova; just something I thought I'd add to capture the mood.**

Vera tossed back and forth in bed. One thing she had overlooked was being able to sleep in this house again. Even with the judge and everyone else gone, she still felt as though their spirits were in the house—even in this room—watching her. The slightest sound would force her into her old habit of keeping herself still for five minutes.

"No one is in the house but you and Philip," she said firmly to herself. "Everyone else is dead and gone, so you don't need to worry about it any longer."

Silence rang in her ears as she tried to relax herself, feeling frustrated that she'd feel as though she was on the brink of sanity both ways—when there were sounds, and when there was silence.

Vera turned to look at her alarm clock.

11:32 PM.

And she had gone to bed an hour ago.

This thought was what made Vera decide to get out of bed and stand up for a minute or two to stretch her legs. She walked around the room and to the window. She opened it and gazed down at the cruel ground below. A sudden chill ran down her spine when she realized it was _her_ window that the judge had pushed the bear clock out of.

She shivered and closed the window, walking back to her bed.

Ten minutes later, Vera was still wide awake and unable to get to sleep. Sighing with frustration, Vera slowly got up. She was going to find Philip and talk to him for a few minutes before going back.

That was all she wanted.

Vera slowly opened the door. There was a very brief moment where her heart stopped beating in the dark. When she saw no one in the hall, her heart resumed beating and she began to walk.

Vera walked slowly, one hand sliding across the cold wall. Even with everyone gone, she felt unsafe, as though the judge were right around the corner, waiting with a noose and Cyril standing right beside him, ready to laugh...

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Vera and the figure she had bumped into screamed in terror and she jumped back, covering her eyes. During the entirety of which they screamed, Vera thought, _This is it, the judge is going to kill me, this is the end of my life, I will never get to marry Philip and tell him I love him one last time..._

"Vera?"

Vera slowly uncovered her eyes—and laughed to see Lombard standing there, and he laughed in return. What fools they must've looked like! If any of the other guests had survived, they would surely think the sight was absolutely ridiculous.

"And here I was, thinking you were that awful judge about to kill me!" laughed Vera.

"And I thought you were one of those natives sent to butcher me alive!" laughed Lombard.

Once they managed to gain composure of themselves, Lombard said, "Out of curiosity, just what made you get up and walk around?"

"I had trouble sleeping," sighed Vera. "What about you?"

"Same," shrugged Lombard.

The silence between them grew deadly. Before it could get downright murderous, Lombard said, "So...I suppose we might as well go back to our separate rooms then." He began to turn around.

Vera had a sudden realization: _She would not be able to sleep alone._ Tonight, she would need company.

Even if she and that company took things farther than intended.

"Wait," said Vera.

Lombard stopped long enough for Vera to run up to him. She said, "I would much appreciate some company."

"Oh," said Lombard. "So we'll head off to your room, then?"

Vera pursed her lips. "Actually," she gave Lombard a rather seductive smile, "I would much rather sleep in _your_ room tonight."

"Would you?" asked Lombard, a grin slowly making its way on his face.

"Oh yes," said Vera in a tone to match her smile. "I'll be _very_ lonely otherwise. You wouldn't want me to be lonely, would you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," was Lombard's reply.

He and Vera linked hands and walked off to his bedroom. As they did, Vera couldn't help but think that Lombard had changed in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Much like how she had changed in a way she could not figure it out.

_**I don't know you**_

_**But I want you**_

_**All the more for that**_

Once they reached Lombard's door, Lombard lightly pushed the door open and ushered Vera in first before going in behind her and closing the door. The room was mostly dark, but not too much once one's eyes were adjusted. The one thing that gave the room light, however, was the silver moonlight pouring through the window onto the bottom half of Lombard's bed.

Their hands unlinked and they stood there, feeling awkward. "So..."

"So..."

Lombard cleared his throat, "Lovely weather we're having, aren't we?"

"But of course," said Vera slowly.

They continued to stand there and continued to feel awkward about finally being alone, having this house all to themselves without any worries of anyone walking in, or any nosy neighbours spying on them.

They could do whatever they wanted...and no one would ever know.

That was what made it awkward.

_**Words fall through me**_

_**And always fool me**_

_**And I can't react**_

Vera swallowed. The seductive and confident nature she had displayed only a minute earlier had now vanished. Now, she was modest and shy. Finally, she managed to say, "How about we just...sit on the bed and talk?"

Lombard shrugged.

Vera and Lombard slowly walked up to the bed and sat down on the edge facing the luminescent window. There had been many times before where they would kiss as though it would be their very last, but it would never lead to anything much farther than that.

This was what caused Lombard and Vera to wonder something...if they were to start kissing this very moment, would it end right there?

Or would it go one step further?

_**And games that never amount**_

_**To more than they're meant**_

_**Will play themselves out**_

"You know," said Lombard, shattering the silence, "if anyone told me in the past that I would meet someone like you, I would've laughed until my sides were sore."

"What do you mean by 'someone like me'?" asked Vera, raising an eyebrow.

"Someone who is seductive one minute, and then mousy the next," replied Lombard.

Vera blushed. It seemed to her that she was blushing a lot lately.

Lombard put one hand under her chin and raised it up towards him. "But that's what I love about you," he said.

He leaned in slowly and kissed her. Ardently, she kissed back, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close, he doing the same.

_**Take this sinking boat and point it home**_

_**We've still got time**_

Lombard gently lowered himself and Vera down onto the bed, lifting their legs onto the bed and slowly letting them drop like a feather.

The kissing was growing more passionate, quickly evolving into making out. They could feel their faces slowly begin to burn from anticipation. Anticipation of what just might come next if they went on.

Vera knew then that if she wanted this to go on, she would be the one to start it, so she raised herself up against Lombard ever so slightly, kissing his neck all the way down to his pyjama top, where, one by one, she would kiss each button while slowly unbuttoning the barrier between his clothing and his chest.

Finally, once it was completely unbuttoned, she slipped his pyjama top off.

_**Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice**_

_**You'll make it now**_

They separated by a few inches, their faces flushing hot. Vera straightened herself up just a bit and, for a moment, her eyes lingered at the chest and stomach where the pyjama top used to be, her father's rules of proper conduct for a lady fleeing her mind. She lightly placed one hand on Lombard's heart and felt a good, steady beat. Her eyes met Lombard's and the kissing resumed.

Only, this was a..._different_ kind of kissing.

Once their lips made contact, Vera was suddenly aware of _another_ tongue in her mouth, causing her to quickly pull away from shock. Then, she closed her eyes and gracefully allowed this different kind of kissing to continue.

She was used to simple lip-on-lip contact, so it felt a bit strange at first, but it left her with a tingling feeling and she secretly hoped for this, if it was a dream, to never end.

_**Falling slowly, eyes that know me**_

_**And I can't go back**_

In the midst of focusing on the taste of each other, Lombard's hand, as though put under the spell of Aphrodite, slowly laid itself on Vera's knee and began to scrunch up her nightgown...

Vera pulled away, but only for a moment or two, she knew that. She lay on her back in the bed, trying to take all this in.

This was it. She was about to lose—no, _give_—her virginity and she knew it. She had no doubts this time. There would be absolutely _no_ turning back now.

And just when she had thought the moment would never come...here they were.

"Are you ready now?" asked Lombard, putting a hand on Vera's shoulder.

Vera slowly pulled herself up into the half-darkness and said, "I've never been more ready for anything in my whole life."

And with that, she brought her mouth back upon his, and their bare feet began to play a game with the blankets below and soon, they were under the covers and caught up in the heat of what would eventually become a turning point in their relationship.

_**Moods that take me and erase me**_

_**And I'm painted black**_

Vera let out a small, somewhat involuntary moan. This...was getting good. This was getting _real_ good...

And it was about to get better.

Once again, Lombard's Aphrodite-possessed hand made its way to Vera's knee and pulled a slightly delicate fabric up over it. It made it to Vera's thighs, where the person pulling it up awaited permission to go on. He had always been chivalrous towards women, regarding them as delicate and frail, and this woman had indeed been delicate and frail in the past. Whether or not she was _still_ delicate and frail, he was not sure.

Once Vera realized what Lombard was waiting for, she put one hand on his arm and raised it ever so slightly, which gave Lombard the necessary permission to lift the nightgown up and off over Vera's head and to the ground where it fell like a leaf to a lake.

Once again, they separated, lightly throwing the first layer of blankets off as they did so. Vera felt her face flush hot and laughed nervously with a smile. She had definitely _not_ gone this far with Hugo. Her modesty and fear of temptation prevented it, and yet nothing was stopping her now.

She felt a bit nervous as Lombard eyed her body in the half-moonlight half-darkness. What was he thinking? She herself didn't think her own body was all _that _spectacular, but she didn't think it was downright ugly, either. Then, he placed his hand on her heart and felt the same, sturdy beat Vera had felt when she put her hand on his heart.

She relaxed with a strong feeling this would turn out to be the best decision she had ever made.

_**You have suffered enough**_

_**And warred with yourself**_

_**It's time that you won**_

All that needed to be done now was to remove the final piece of clothing separating them...Lombard's pyjama bottoms.

They each placed one hand at the edge of the bottoms. Their eyes met.

_Shall we do this?_

_Let's shall._

Gently, they pulled the bottoms off and they, too, were tossed to the ground.

_**Take this sinking boat and point it home**_

_**We've still got time**_

Vera's face grew even hotter at what she saw, her father's rules of proper lady conduct slowly creeping back into her mind, but these thoughts were quickly cast out when Lombard gently propped her up straight so they were both in a half-sitting nearly-lying position. His eyes met hers.

Vera knew that this consent was to be her final one, her last chance to say yes or no. And she used the power of her lips to give her consent.

Their lips locked, their arms stretched forward to seek solace in each other, their hands wrapped around each other to give support, their separate bodies leaned forward...

...and became one.

_**Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice**_

_**You've made it now**_

Vera let out a stifled cry. She hadn't expected her first time to feel like roses, but she hadn't expected it to feel like fire, either.

Fortunately, the pain only lasted for a moment or two—it was still there, but not quite as sharp; it was rather like a dull ache.

Then...slowly but surely, it began to feel...nice.

_More_ than nice, even.

The sheets moved beneath them, though they could barely feel it. There was a soft wind outside, but all they could hear was their own breathing. It was just them in their love, their world. A moment between two people that couldn't be interrupted or scarred.

Their hands gently caressed each other's bare skin before finding each other and joining union while their other hands would just hold them close together, hoping never to part.

After years of thinking that their chance for a moment as sacred as this had passed, it had finally come. And it was every bit as magical as they had hoped it to be. There was no lust to it, there was just love, pure love that couldn't be tainted or soiled.

_**Falling slowly sing your melody**_

_**I'll sing along**_

After what felt like an eternity of bliss, pleasure, love, and happiness, it was over. Lombard lay next to Vera, pulling the sheets up to cover them both up, out of habit.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, they slowly turned to face each other and locked eyes. They slowly began to smile as reality began to dawn upon them.

They had just made love.

Vera snuggled up next to Lombard and lay her head on his chest and softly said, "Oh, Philip...I love you so much."

Lombard gently stroked a few hairs off of Vera's cheek and replied in the same soft tone, "I love you, too, Vera."

Vera propped herself up even further and wrapped her arms around Lombard, and his around her. They lay there, the events of the past two minutes running through their minds like a delightful cinema, until they fell asleep in the bed in the moonlight and in each other's arms, as lovers.


	33. They'll Never Know

33

**They'll Never Know**

Sunlight poured in through the window and shined upon the two lovers in bed as Lombard slowly woke up. He looked down and smiled to see Vera in bed with him, bathed in the golden sunlight.

He gently played with her hair and whispered in her ear, "Good morning, love." He kissed her on the cheek.

Vera opened her eyes and smiled when she realized where she was: She was in bed with Lombard, her head on his chest.

"Good morning," she whispered.

For the next ten minutes or so, they said nothing. They just lay there, happily thinking about what had happened the night before. Somehow, it didn't feel quite real. It felt like a wonderful dream.

And yet here they were, waking up in each other's arms.

That was proof enough that this was real.

Lombard was startled to hear quiet sobs. He saw Vera sitting up, softly crying into her hand.

"Vera?" he asked, sitting up. "Are you all right?"

"I am," sobbed Vera. She looked up with a smile. "I'm just..._overwhelmed_ by this, that's all. I can't believe we're actually _here._ But we _are._"

Lombard wiped the tears off her face with a soft stroke of his finger. He held her close and she put her head on his shoulder. Her eyes fell on the alarm clock beside the bed.

"It's around ten-thirty," said Vera. "I suppose we should get up and get dressed soon."

"Yes," said Lombard. "We should."

But instead, they continued to lie there for another half an hour, not wanting this moment to end.

After what _felt_ like ten minutes, Lombard turned to look at the clock. He shot up. "Oh God."

"What?" asked Vera.

"It's eleven," said Lombard, getting out of bed and quickly slipping on the clothes he had prepared the night before in a nearby chair. "The boat will be here in an hour."

"Oh!" said Vera, who took Lombard's cue and slipped out of bed. She found her nightgown on the floor and quickly slipped it back over her head. "I'll be in my room," she said quickly. "Getting dressed. I'll see you downstairs."

* * *

Several minutes later, Lombard and Vera, now fully-clothed, met downstairs in the dining room where they served themselves some eggs and bacon. Lombard, however, was the only one eating; Vera was too euphoric to even _think_ about eating.

"Wasn't last night just _incredible?_" sighed Vera romantically.

"It was only our first time, Vera," pointed out Lombard after swallowing his bacon. "The next time might be even better."

"Maybe," mused Vera. She laughed. "If my father knew, he'd kill both of us. I'm not quite sure how mother would react, though." She smiled. "But they'll never know."

"Right," nodded Lombard. "What happened will be our dirty little secret. And to make sure we don't have any more dirty little secrets to hide," (and also to avoid a repeat of what happened with Jennifer, Lombard mentally noted) "how about we have one night each month where we make love until our wedding night?"

"Once a _month?_" sighed Vera.

"We can't _just_ have sex all the time, you know," pointed out Lombard. "And it'll make us look more forward to the next time."

"I suppose absence makes the heart grow fonder," sighed Vera.

"Hello?"

The boatman came into the dining room. "Oh, hello," he said in the same, cheerful voice. "I came a few minutes early, but do you two still wish to leave?"

"It would be a pleasure to leave," said Lombard.

* * *

While taking Lombard and Vera back to the mainland, Fred couldn't help but notice that the two had grown somewhat...closer. Vera kept putting her head on Lombard's shoulder. In return, Lombard would wrap his arms around Vera and gently stroke her hair.

It reminded Fred of how he and his wife behaved after their honeymoon.

Did they...?

Fred shook his head. No, of course they hadn't.

Had they?

* * *

**A/N: Ta-da! Here's an early Christmas present! (Or Chanukah present, if that's what you celebrate, although that's not really early; it's more on time since it's still going on at the time of this fic) Nothing much happens in this chapter, but stay tuned for the next chapter, where Vera runs into someone from her past...**


	34. Making Things Right

34

**Making Things Right**

Ten days after their visit to Indian Island, Lombard and Vera decided now was the perfect time to go Christmas shopping for one another in secret. The timing would have to be perfectly arranged, of course, lest they spoil the surprises they had for one another.

Vera (whose euphoric state had by now ended) knew what she would get Lombard: A new suit, for although he had managed to buy himself a few to replace the ones burnt in the fire, he hadn't many. This was how she came to end up in the clothing store looking through the men's clothing.

She stood there, wondering which suit would look better on Philip—the black one, or the grey? Either colour looked perfectly handsome on him, and she knew that, being a man, he certainly wouldn't mind either one just as long as he had _a_ suit. If she could, she'd buy him both...but could only afford one.

And both were the same price.

Finally, Vera chose the black suit; Philip already had plenty of grey clothing and he might be relieved to see some sort of variety.

While she stood in line, waiting for her turn, she had a sudden thought: _Where is my purse?_

She _had_ brought it in with her, hadn't she?

Or had she left it in the car?

Well...perhaps she had enough money in her coat pockets.

Using her free hand, she quickly searched through the pockets of her coat...no such luck. She hadn't even a penny.

She might be able to get away with leaving the suit here with the clerk while going back to get her purse, but where in her car had she left it?

"Miss?"

Vera realized it was now her turn. "Um, here," she said, handing over her paper shopping bag. "Just give me a minute..."

"Is this yours, miss?"

Vera turned around. Her throat tightened and her stomach lurched.

_Hugo._

"Miss?" repeated Hugo, acting as though he had never seen Vera before in his life. "Is this your wallet?" He mouthed, "Say yes."

_Hugo was trying to help her._

"Oh—oh! Yes! Of course!" said Vera, playing along. "Thank you _so_ much, mister!"

She took the wallet from Hugo's hand and added up the money...yes! Just enough to pay for the suit!

Vera's mind was still processing what had just happened while paying for the suit. Why had Hugo done that for her? Did this mean he forgave her?

Once the suit had been paid for, Vera turned to Hugo and said, "Here you go, mister; you can use my wallet. Just give it back to me when you're done."

Hugo nodded and took the wallet from Vera's hand.

Vera stood off to the side and patiently waited for Hugo to make his purchase. Even if she had moved on, she still had to talk to Hugo, just to make things right.

And this time, she was not going to let that opportunity slip by.

As soon as Hugo made his purchase, he walked up to Vera and said, "Thank you for letting me use your wallet!"

Vera pulled him in closer by the shoulders and gave him a hug and said, "You're very welcome!" In his ear, she whispered, "We need to talk, in private."

* * *

Vera took Hugo into the Women's Washroom into a stall. Her reasoning for this was that a lot of women had taken their children with them shopping today and therefore would have to keep their eye on them to keep them from running off and thus wouldn't have much time to go to the bathroom.

"You said we needed to talk," said Hugo after about a minute's silence. "What of?"

Vera hesitated. How to put this in the right way? "I think you know what," she said quietly.

"And I think I heard enough that day," said Hugo, his tone turning cold. "Congratulations, Vera. You are _quite_ the accomplished liar. You managed to fool _everyone,_ even your own family. You convinced your sister, whom I thought you would've at least told knowing how close you are, that I was the villain, that I was so grief-stricken I blamed _you._"

"Hugo, she was my _sister_, what was I _supposed_ to say? She and I may be close, but she would _never _forgive me if she knew the truth."

"Especially after you _lied_ to her." He scoffed, "And to think, one of the things I once loved about you was your _honesty._ I loved how you could give a straight answer to a question and not beat around the bush. I loved how you were willing to talk to me about your family history and not try to hide it. And I loved how you felt you could share anything with me and my family.

"And do you know what else I loved about you?" he went on. "Your selflessness. I loved how you could always put your own feelings aside for the sake of another person's."

His sharp, cruel eyes met hers. "But I was wrong," he said in a quiet, hurt voice. "I was wrong about _everything._ You...were the exact _opposite_ of what I perceived you to be."

"You're right," said Vera suddenly, surprising herself. "Four years ago, I was a _horrible_ person. I was...deceptive and...and _selfish_...selfish, _selfish_ me...at the time, I _thought_ I was doing it for you. I thought I was doing it so _you_ could be happy, so _you_ could be happy with _me._"

"You thought _killing_ my nephew, whom I loved dearly, who made not only me happy but my sister happy, would make me _happy?_" Hugo's cold voice was turning into ice.

"No," said Vera quietly, looking down at the tiled floor. "It would make _me_ happy. Causing the death of an innocent child would make _me_ happy. I _thought_ I had _you_ in mind...but I was wrong. Was I ever wrong..."

She shook her head. "I hadn't you in mind. I hadn't even your sister in mind. I hadn't thought that it would make you unhappy, or _anyone_ unhappy. All I could think about was how happy _I_ would be. I did it so _I_ could be happy, so _I_ could marry the man _I_ loved." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Selfish, selfish me," she repeated quietly.

"Indeed," said Hugo in the same, icy tone. "You were selfish. It never once occurred to you that I didn't care about the money Cyril had, that I was going to find a secure job so no one would have to be sacrificed? Or that Cyril gave my sister a reason for waking up every morning after her husband died? After Cyril's death, my sister would cry herself to sleep every night for about two months. She always thought I couldn't hear her, but I did. She acted perfectly calm during the day, as though nothing was bothering her, but it was at night that the tears started flowing. And not just for her..." His voice faded off.

Vera said slowly, "What I went through...on Indian Island...it made me took a good, long, hard look at myself. And I did not like what I saw one bit." She looked straight into Hugo's eyes. "What I went through _changed_ me. I came back a _changed_ person. And over the past few months, I have, little by little, managed to change for the better. I am not the same person I was four years ago. That person died on Indian Island. I am a much, _much_ better person now." Then, "Does your sister know the truth? Did you tell her?"

"No," said Hugo. "I could never tell her. She would never believe me. And it would only cause her more pain than what she's already going through. She's no longer grieving intensely, but I don't think she's entirely over losing her only child."

Vera hesitated. There was something she wanted to ask Hugo, but she didn't know _how_ to ask without sounding like she hadn't learned anything...

As though reading her mind, Hugo said, "I got your letter. I think you would like it back."

He pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper and handed it over to Vera. Judging from the creases, Vera knew it had been handled many times. And there were the same words that, all of a sudden, she just wanted to burn:

_My dearest Hugo,_

_I know you must be grieving deeply for Cyril's death. I would, too, if someone in my family died, but must we let this come between us? Perhaps this is for the best; after all, you have Cyril's money. We can get married, now. We can get married and start a family. Money will no longer be a problem for us._

_I can't say too much in case this falls into the wrong hands, but please, understand that I did what I did for you. It was all for you. I had myself in mind, yes, but all of it was for you. I hope you can forgive me. I've put my current address on the envelope so you'll know where to find me. You can come see me when you're ready._

_With all my love,_

_Vera_

Vera could no longer stare at those wretched words one second longer; she angrily tore the letter up with her bare hands and tossed the shreds into the toilet.

A faint smile twitched on Hugo's lips. "I see you have the courage to do what I could never bring myself to do," he said, lightly chuckling. "I knew it would've been better if I had spoken to you about my true feelings, and the return address on the envelope gave me the opportunity to do so...but I was already wrecked with guilt, and your words did little to ease that. The only person I was angrier at then you was me. I kept thinking that it was my fault because you had cared for me too much."

"No, Hugo," said Vera, shaking her head. "It was _my _fault I cared too much. It was never your fault for what happened. Everything...was _my_ fault. _I_ brought my own misery on _myself._ And you. And your sister."

Vera blinked. Two single tears ran down her cheeks. "How you must hate me," she said softly.

"How can you think I hate you?" asked Hugo, gently wiping the tears off Vera's cheeks in the same manner Philip had only ten days earlier. "Out of all the things that made this complicated, that was the most. I was furious, yes. I couldn't believe what you had done, that you could've actually brought yourself to _do_ such a thing. And yet...in spite of what you had done, I could never hate you. I never wished ill on you, nor did I wish for the best. I just...didn't hate you, but...couldn't forgive you."

"Can you forgive me now?" asked Vera in a somewhat hopeful voice.

Hugo looked deep into her sorrowful, regretful eyes. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. "It's something I'll still have to think about. I'm sorry."

"So am I," said Vera, getting choked up. "So, _so_ much!"

She couldn't help herself, she threw her arms around Hugo and began crying in his shoulder. How could he be so kind, after all that had happened? Did she even deserve this kindness?

Hugo held Vera for a few more seconds before lightly pushing her off of him. "Vera," he said, "I don't hate you. I still love you. I always have." He paused. "But I'm not _in_ love with you anymore. Do you understand that?"

Vera had to think about that for a minute or two. She still cared for Hugo, but she no longer had any desire to get back together with him. She had Philip in her life now.

"Yes," she said. "I understand what you mean. And...I feel the same way." She said slowly, "Actually...I think getting back together is out of the question now, even if Cyril were alive. Remember that man you saw me with the last time we met—Philip Lombard? We're _engaged_ now. I'm in love with him, and he loves me. And he makes me happy."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Hugo. "All I want is for you to be happy. Don't let me ruin your life any longer. Just be _free._" He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and said, "I wish you good luck with Philip Lombard. I'm sure you'll be just happy with him."

After a moment's silence, Hugo said, "Well...I think we'd better go our separate ways now. Goodbye, and happy Christmas." He opened the stall door and closed it.

"Happy Christmas to you, too," called out Vera. She then flushed the toilet and walked straight out of the stall without even looking back.


	35. The Baby Shower

35

**The Baby Shower**

Meanwhile, Lombard had just finished wrapping up Vera's gifts and was now sitting on his bed, reading an invitation he had received in the mail earlier that day. It was, of all things, an invitation to Jennifer's _baby shower._

He had nearly forgotten Charles' joyful news from a few months back, and now it all came back to him. He had said the baby had been conceived on their honeymoon, which was in August. So how far along was she now—about five months?

More importantly, should he go?

A part of Lombard wanted to go just to make amends with Jennifer—he wasn't sure if his apology had been enough—and also to see Chester one more time. He knew the chance to see him again would take a while before arriving.

And yet, the other part was afraid—afraid of Jennifer, afraid of Charles, afraid of Vera...

Well, if Vera truly loved him, then it wouldn't bother her, right?

And besides, he wouldn't know what to get Jennifer; Vera might...

Sighing, Lombard got up off the bed, walked down the hall, picked up the phone, and began to dial Vera's number.

* * *

As it turned out, Vera not only wished to go shopping for the baby shower with Lombard, but also wanted to go with him to the actual shower.

And so it was that on the fifteenth of December, Lombard and Vera found themselves at the doorstep of the Morley's.

"This is so exciting!" said Vera eagerly. "I really hope Mrs. Morley enjoys our gift!"

Lombard lightly rapped on the door and said to Vera, "I'm sure she will. What's not to enjoy about a blanket?"

The door was opened by none other than a grinning Charles Morley. "Good, you're here," he said. He turned to Vera. "You must be Vera."

"Indeed I am," said Vera, shaking Morley's hand. "Vera Claythorne."

"Soon to be Lombard," added Lombard.

"Do come in," said Morley, ushering the couple indoors.

Lombard and Vera took a good look around. The interior didn't look _shabby_; it just looked...bland. The walls were a pale beige that had a slight green tint to them. The carpet was the colour of cream. The oak banister didn't look like a colour that reminded Lombard or Vera of anything else; it was just...oak. And right through the nearby frame was the pale green living room, where a pregnant-looking Jennifer was surrounded by other women, laughing and sharing stories.

As though reading their minds, Morley said, "I know it doesn't really look like much, but Jennifer doesn't want to have anything painted until the baby is here. Now come on this way."

Lombard and Vera hung up their coats and followed Morley into the living room. Lombard suddenly felt out-of-place, as though he shouldn't be here. Perhaps it wasn't too late! Perhaps he could still sneak out without anyone noticing and—

"Oh, Philip, come here," called out Jennifer, gesturing for him to come sit next to her. "And bring your girlfriend with you!"

"Fiancée," corrected Lombard as he and Vera walked up to the couch and took their places next to Jennifer.

"Oh _congratulations!_" gushed Jennifer. "You must be _so_ happy!" She frowned as though she were concentrating. "Have I seen you before?" she asked Vera.

"I think so," said Vera slowly. "I seem to recall meeting you _somewhere_ before, but I just can't remember _where._"

Before either Jennifer or Vera had a chance to recall, Lombard quickly handed Jennifer the package and said, "Here. It's from both of us."

"Why, thank you," said Jennifer politely. She unwrapped the package, opened the box, and gasped in delight at the knitted yellow blanket. Tears of happiness poured down her face as she sobbed, "Oh, _thank_ you!"

Vera smiled, imagining herself in Jennifer's place just a few years from now. There she would be, surrounded by friends and family, opening gift after gift while commenting on how adorable the tiny little socks were while her mother would say it almost seemed impossible that Vera's own feet had once fitted into those...

Lombard, however, just rolled his eyes and thought, _Women!_

"Lombard?"

Lombard looked up and saw Morley.

"Can we talk, in private?" asked Morley.

Grateful for a chance to get away from Jennifer's hormonal sate, Lombard got up and followed Morley into the bedroom, where Morley closed the door.

"Since you agreed to come, I take it then that there are no hard feelings?" asked Morley.

"None at all," said Lombard. He felt the need to ask, "Where's Chester?"

"He's out with his grandparents," replied Morley. "He didn't like the idea of people cooing over something so 'silly' in his opinion."

Lombard then said, "Morley, all I ask is that you be a good father to Chester. His biological father was never around because of his own foolishness, so be the best father you can be, all right?"

"I promise," said Morley sincerely. Then, "You know, Jennifer was never angry. She just wasn't sure if you were ready for the responsibility."

"At the time, I don't think I was," said Lombard quietly. "I was still a foolish man who longed for a life of thrills and the idea of taking care of a baby just wasn't thrilling to me."

After about a minute or two of silence, Morley said, "I hope you're happy with Vera?"

"Oh yes, just _splendid,_" assured Lombard. "June cannot come soon enough, I'll tell you that!"

"So you're getting married in June?" said Morley.

"Yes," said Lombard. "June the twenty-second, to be precise. I just might invite you to come, if you like. Maybe even Chester."

"Sounds splendid," said Morley cheerfully. He remarked, "You really have changed, Lombard. You haven't even mentioned any...sexual exploits between you two. I thought you would by now."

Lombard bit his lip and cast his glance elsewhere.

"That look is a dead give-away, and you know it," said Morley accusingly.

"It was just the one time," insisted Lombard. "A couple days ago. And I assure you, we are going to limit the number of 'sexual exploits' as you put it, to prevent a repeat of what happened with Jennifer."

"How do you know for sure that's going to work?" asked Morley. "How do you know you and Vera won't make a 'mistake'? How do you know you haven't made a 'mistake' _already?_"

Lombard narrowed his eyes. "We haven't," he said calmly.

"How do you know?" asked Morley. "Were you, ah, 'protected'?"

"I just _know,_" said Lombard tensely.

"And speaking of that," said Morley, "assuming nothing happens until a few years into your marriage, have you changed your mind about children?"

Lombard said slowly, "I'm not really _sure._ I thought I wanted to be a father once I found out about Chester, but now...I keep changing my mind. Part of me is tempted to cave in to the romantic scenario of being surrounded by a dozen children asking me to read them a bedtime story, of having a son to pass my skills on to, of having a daughter to spoil with sweets when her mother isn't looking."

He smiled at the thought, but the smile fell as he went on: "But the other part wants to cast off children for life. They would be too much of a reminder of what could have been for myself and Jennifer...and Chester."

"Ah, but you're _considering_ it?" said Morley with a smile on his face. "What did I tell you? I knew you'd want children one day!"

"I didn't say I _did,_" said Lombard quickly. "I said I _might._ Maybe in a few years. Until then, I'm perfectly content with it being just me and Vera."

* * *

Within two hours, the baby shower was over and everyone was leaving.

"Goodbye, Philip!" called out Jennifer. "Goodbye, Vera! Thank you so much for coming!"

"Goodbye," called out Lombard and Vera as they began to walk down the street.

"I think I remember Jennifer now," said Vera slowly. "I recall coming across a pregnant woman in labour with Fleta a couple years ago and we helped her get to the hospital in time. I _think_ it may have been Jennifer, but I'm not entirely _sure._ Anyway," she sighed, "wasn't that just lovely? Just think how nice it will be when that's us a few years from now!"

It wouldn't hurt to make sure how long Vera wanted to wait...

"How many years?" asked Lombard.

"Oh, I was thinking about three or four," said Vera. "I want us to adjust to being a married couple for a while first before starting a family—like getting our own house and stabilizing our careers, perhaps even seeing more of the world. You do want to have children, right?" she asked.

"Well," said Lombard truthfully, "I keep changing my mind, but three or four years sounds all right by me; I just might be fully comfortable with the idea by then."

Vera smiled and held Lombard's hand and they walked down the road, with Lombard thinking, _Yes...three or four years sounds just splendid._

* * *

**A/N: This will be the last chapter of 2008, so I will say...thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, and happy new year! May 2009 be a great year for writers and readers alike!**


	36. Moving In

36

**Moving In**

It was on the sixteenth that Lombard and Vera went out for lunch to have a talk.

"I've been thinking," said Lombard as he and Vera waited for their orders to be served. "Why should we let the opinions of our neighbours affect our relationship? Who cares what they say as long as we're in love?"

"What are you saying exactly?" asked Vera.

"Well, Vera," said Lombard, leaning in a bit closer "I think it's time we moved in together."

"_Now?"_

"Sure, why not? It isn't sinful as long as we're in _love,_ right? And even if it is," he grinned that wolf-like grin of his, "I've always been a sinful man."

"What if word eventually gets back to my father?"

"We'll assure him that we're not sleeping together...which is true in a sense. Because we won't get up to our naughty habits _every_ night; just once a month, like we agreed."

"Philip! There are _people_ nearby!"

"If they're listening in on us describing what we like to do in private, they're perverts." He then said, "If it makes you feel better, how about we tell him shortly after Christmas so as not to spoil the festive mood of things—perhaps at Evelyn's house for that gathering to celebrate her and Richard's fifth anniversary and the upcoming new year?"

"Perhaps," said Vera thoughtfully. "I suppose moving in _can't_ hurt if it'll bring us closer...should we move into the other's house, or find a new house somewhere?"

"Actually," said Lombard, "I was looking at houses the other day and there's a pretty decent one in the same neighbourhood as Evelyn and Richard, but a few blocks down. I'll show it to you tomorrow..."

* * *

It was not a mansion, but it was not a slave's home either. It was a nice, simple, one-story house similar to the former homes of Lombard and Vera in terms of where most of everything was, except with a much bigger bedroom ideal for fitting in a bed for two, a guest room, a kitchen and dining room, two bathrooms, and a study. The walls weren't the same depressing cream-beige colours, but a nice, robin's egg blue.

Yes, it was the ideal house for Lombard and Vera to live in for the next several months of their engagement, perhaps even for the next few years of their marriage.

And so it was that, after a bit of paperwork with the estate agent, Lombard and Vera found themselves packing up from their former homes and moving as much as they could with the help of Evelyn and Richard.

"It's a good thing father isn't here, or else he'd have a heart attack!" remarked Evelyn as she helped make up the blankets of the bed into the master bedroom.

"Especially if he knew just _how_ passionate Philip and I got on Indian Island," added Vera, not really thinking about what she was saying as she smoothed out her end.

"_What?!"_

Evelyn dropped her end of the top layer. She was looking at Vera with wide eyes. "You _didn't._"

Vera's cheeks turned a faint paink.

"_Vera._ If _father_ knew..."

"And he's not going to know," said Vera. "Because we're not going to tell him."

Evelyn kept opening and closing her jaw, trying to think of the right reply to _that._ It seemed almost impossible to her that her baby sister was no longer a virgin.

Before she was married, too!

Evelyn finally managed to say one thing: "You're bad."

Vera burst out laughing. "Well, your reaction was better than I expected! And for your information, it was absolutely _wonderful_ and I wouldn't have wanted to do it with anyone but Philip. Except Hugo, but that was _years_ ago and I'm over him now and...and..."

Suddenly, Vera felt a bit lightheaded. She lay down on the bed and sighed, "You'll have to excuse me, Evelyn. I'm a bit dizzy."

"And so am I!" remarked Evelyn before leaving.

Vera closed her eyes. Within a few minutes, the dizzy feeling passed. Was it the brief mentioning of Hugo that had made her dizzy?

Or was it just exhaustion from the move?

Vera opened up her eyes and saw Philip standing above her, smiling. "Well, Vera, everything's unpacked and in its place," he said. He lay down next to Vera and chuckled, "I'm not sure if your sister really likes me anymore. She looked pretty shocked when she came out of your room and when I asked her why she looked as though she had seen a ghost, she muttered something about how it was _my_ fault you're no longer a virgin."

"I'm afraid I told her without really thinking," said Vera guiltily.

"Well, at least we don't have to worry about your sister telling your father," said Lombard. "The two of you are pretty close. I'm sure she'd never tell your father any of your secrets."

Vera got the feeling that Lombard was lightly hinting at something else...and then a sudden feeling of nausea. She shivered, and the wave of nausea passed just as quickly as it had arrived. When she noticed Lombard looking at her in concern, she smiled and snuggled up a bit closer to him.

Little did she know her condition was about to worsen...

* * *

**A/N: So...first chapter of 2009! Hope you enjoyed it! Hate to leave you on a cliffy...no wait, I actually love leaving you on a cliffy because I'm evil that way.**


	37. Sickness

37

**Sickness**

The next morning, Vera woke up feeling…strange. There just was no other way to describe it. She just didn't feel the way she usually did when she woke up. She knew she had to get up, but somehow just couldn't bring herself to do so.

_I'll just spend a few extra minutes in bed before getting up,_ thought Vera, her eyelids slowly drooping. She must've fallen asleep because the next thing she knew, she was waking up again to something soft stroking her cheek. It took her a minute to realize it was Lombard's hand.

"Oh, good morning," yawned Vera, slowly sitting up. "Did I sleep in?"

"Yes, you slept in rather late," said Lombard. "It is now around eleven-thirty. I didn't wake you up because I figured you were already exhausted from the move yesterday."

"Well, that was very thoughtful of you, Philip," said Vera. "But for your information, I am perfectly capable of carrying on in spite of however I'm feeling."

She got up out of bed, once again feeling a bit lightheaded, but only for a moment or two. "So, what do we have for breakfast?" she asked.

"We have muffins," said Lombard.

"What kind?"

"Blueberry."

"Oh how splendid!"

* * *

"Splendid" was the exact _opposite_ of what Vera was feeling ten minutes later while sitting at the dining room table, staring her muffin in the blueberry eyes taking shape. It wasn't until after she had already sat down with it just five minutes ago that she realized how nauseous she was feeling. Suddenly, she felt like doing the exact _opposite_ of eating. But she told herself she was probably nauseous because she hadn't eaten anything yet and so she had tried to eat as much as she could, but could only bring herself to nibble around the edges.

"You're _sure_ you can eat all that?" asked Lombard. "Because if you can't, I'll eat it."

"I can do it," said Vera weakly. Once again, she slowly picked up the muffin and began to nibble around the edges, but let out a moan as she swallowed them.

"I'm telling you, I really wouldn't mind another muffin," said Lombard.

"Oh, shut up about the muffin already," snapped Vera. "I'm getting a glass of water."

She stood up and began to walk towards the sink in the kitchen...and then stopped. Without warning, the feeling grew stronger. The dreadful feeling of getting off a roller coaster only to be thrust onto an ocean liner during a rough sea storm, the boat roughly being rocked back and forth, up and down, back and forth…

"Vera?" asked Lombard, suddenly concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I—oh no," said Vera, breathing in faster and faster, trying to keep her stomach's contents down. "I—I think I'm going to—"

Vera didn't finish that sentence; her left hand flew up to her mouth and she made a mad dash to the nearest bathroom, where she quickly lifted up the toilet seat lid, got down on her knees, and became violently sick in the toilet, her throat burning, her eyes watering. When she was done, she let out a small moan and flushed the toilet.

"Feeling any better?"

It was only now that Vera realized Lombard was sitting right next to her. "A little bit," she said weakly.

"Well, you go rest," said Lombard. "It's probably just a small bout of the flu."

He put his hand in hers and gently helped her up and guided her back to their bedroom.

"You really don't have to do this," said Vera. "I can do this myself."

"I know," said Lombard, opening the door. "That's why I'm such a gentlemen."

Vera rolled her eyes and said, "I'll be just fine from here. I'll call you if I need you."

And with that, she closed the door, walked up to the bed feeling a bit shaky, got under the covers, and fell asleep within seconds of closing her eyes.

* * *

Lombard quietly opened the door just a crack. Vera had made it to the bed and had not moved an inch for about five minutes, so he knew she was fast asleep.

He smiled and closed the door. He knew just the cure for tummy bugs, and he knew exactly whom to call...

* * *

And this was how, fifteen minutes later, Richard Barclay found himself in the Lombard-Claythorne kitchen, helping Philip Lombard prepare some nice, old-fashioned chicken soup.

"I know you'd much rather spend this time with your wife and son, but after what happened with the toast, I don't even want to _think_ of what would happen if I attempted _soup,_" said Lombard apologetically.

"No need to apologize," said Richard, heating up the broth which already had the titular chicken. "I'm sure you'd do just fine on your own, but if you really need my help, I'm more than happy. If there's anyone who would burn the house down making soup, it's my wife." He laughed. "Wonderful woman, but the one thing she absolutely can_not_ cook is soup. I remember when she was about five or six months pregnant with Derek, she was craving vegetable soup and tried to cook it herself. I tried to stop her and remind her of what her mother had told me about her attempts to make soup in the past, but she insisted that her mother tended to exaggerate. Well, to make a long story short, it was a very..._eventful_ evening."

"I should imagine!" laughed Lombard, chopping up the carrots. Vera was one of those rare people who actually _liked_ carrots in her soup. "It gives it a bit more flavour," she had once described on a lunch date with Lombard.

"You know," said Richard, "Evelyn told me about...what you and Vera were getting up to on Indian Island."

Lombard tossed the carrots in the broth and said, not bothering to suppress a grin, "Did she now?"

"Oh yes," said Richard. "She wasn't _upset_ or anything. Just...stunned. Then again, she's known Vera ever since birth so I suppose the idea of someone you've known as a baby engaging in any activity that goes a bit further than kissing is shocking."

"What did you say to her?" asked Lombard, clearly enjoying this.

"Oh, I said that if Vera wants to sleep with you, then it's her personal choice, and that as long you're not forcing her to go with it, we should leave you two alone," said Richard.

"Fair enough," shrugged Lombard. "And I assure you, I would _never_ force Vera into doing anything she doesn't want to do. You tell Evelyn that."

"I will," said Richard. He then paused before saying, "When Vera was sick earlier...do you think it's _just_ a stomach bug, and not...something else?"

"Of course it's a stomach bug," said Lombard quickly and defensively. "What do you _think_ it is?"

Richard hesitated before saying, "Well, I'm not a doctor, so I'm just _guessing_..."

"Just spit it out already," said Lombard.

Richard finally managed to work out, "Perhaps it's just exhaustion from the move yesterday? After all, she _did _help move a _lot_ of stuff. Perhaps the strain was bit too much for her."

Lombard relaxed. "Oh, well, it's probably that mixed with an actual bug," he said quickly. Then, as though to himself, "Yes. It's _just_ a bug resulting from exhaustion. That's _all_ it is."

The two men resumed cooking. Richard mentally congratulated himself for being so quick on his feet and not voicing his actual concern out loud. He wasn't _quite_ sure what Lombard's reaction would've been, but it was a safe guess that it wouldn't have been an extremely pleasant one.

* * *

Vera woke up hours later to the smell of chicken soup. Her eyes still had a bit of 'sleepy' in them, but that didn't stop her from fully opening them up and sitting up in bed to inhale the aroma

_Oh!_

It brought back memories of when she was just a little girl sitting up in bed, recovering from a nasty tummy bug. Her mother would sit by her side with a cool washcloth on her forehead, reading her stories of frogs who were really princes, the smell of meaty broth being enough to satisfy her for another hour or so...

The door slowly creaked open and in walked Lombard carrying a small, wooden tray with a bowl of steaming hot chicken soup.

"Dr. Lombard at your service," he said cheerfully. "And the doctor's orders are for you to stay in bed and indulge on this delicious soup that was cooked with the assistance of Chef Barclay."

Vera smiled. She knew he was referring to Richard. Evelyn was absolute _rubbish_ at making soup.

When Lombard reached her bed with the tray, Vera suddenly realized she was _starving._ She could taste the carrots in her watering mouth.

Lombard sat the tray down in Vera's lap. She eagerly picked up the spoon and began to scoop up the broth and carrots mixed in with the chicken. She put the spoon in her mouth...

..and realized how _hot_ it was and spit it out into the napkin provided, her mouth burning.

"Sorry," apologized Lombard. "I forgot to warn you how hot it is."

"Yes, you did," snapped Vera. "Because you're insensitive like _all _men are insensitive! For once, can't you just consider _someone's_ feelings _other than_ your own?"

She blinked and tears fell down her face. She quickly wiped them away with one hand. "Sorry," she apologized. "I'm still a bit tired, so...I'm a bit emotional."

"It's all right," said Lombard getting up. "Want me to get you a glass of water?"

"Yes please," nodded Vera. Her tongue was screaming, "WATER!"

Lombard then walked out of the bedroom, down the hall, and to the kitchen, where he got a glass of water from the cupboard. He turned on the tap and began to fill it up with nice, cool water.

While waiting for the glass to fill up, Lombard couldn't help but wonder what Richard was _really _going to say. He could tell the exhaustion bit was something Richard had come up with at very last second to save his own skin.

A sudden thought struck Lombard about what Richard was really thinking, but he quickly shook the thought out of his head. Of course not. That was ridiculous. That was _impossible._ _That_ possibility was out of the question. There was _no way_...

Right?

Right.


	38. Happy Christmas?

38

**Happy Christmas?**

Vera's sickness did not let up the next day, or the day after. Each morning, she would get up, thinking she was perfectly well and try to eat as much breakfast as she could. And ten minutes later, she would find herself leaning over the toilet. She would then go back to bed where she would spend most of the day before getting up and taking her mind off her misery by doing things such as reading a novel or talking to Philip.

After another trip to the toilet on the twenty-third, Lombard grew worried and wanted to take Vera to a doctor.

"I'll be _fine,_" Vera insisted. "It's just a really nasty bug. It'll go away on its own."

And when she got sick again the next day, Lombard insisted on calling the doctor to come over and take a look.

"I'll tell you what," said Vera. "If it doesn't go away by tomorrow, or if it worsens, we'll see a doctor. All right?"

Lombard reluctantly agreed to the compromise and tried to take his mind off it.

After all, tomorrow was Christmas, which was supposed to be a happy time of year, right?

* * *

Vera woke up on Christmas morning to frost-painted windows and white fluff falling from the sky outdoors. Yes indeed, she woke up with a very good feeling inside. Perhaps she was no longer sick! Perhaps she could now enjoy the holidays in peace.

She yawned and stretched and slowly got out of bed. It was when she stood up that she realized how sore she was. It wasn't _just_ her back; she felt sore _all over._

Well, perhaps she'd feel better after a nice, long hot shower.

Just as Vera was about to make her way to the nearest bathroom, however, Lombard opened up the bedroom door and said, "Merry Christmas, love." He gave Vera a peck on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas to you too," said Vera, smiling.

"How are you feeling?" asked Lombard.

"Sore," sighed Vera. "But so far, my stomach is behaving. Perhaps I just had a nasty bug that's gone now."

Lombard smiled. "There are presents waiting for you in the closet. Let's open them now."

"Only if you open yours first," Vera smiled back.

* * *

Throughout the day, Vera would be struck with brief waves of nausea that would disappear within a few seconds once she nibbled on some crackers and drank some milk. Other than that, she was having a wonderful Christmas so far.

But it was not the presents that made Vera shed tears of joy. What made her cry was thinking about how she might not have seen herself fall in love, get engaged, make love for the very first time, patch things up with Hugo, and see this year's Christmas had the boat arrived later.

Yes, Christmas was indeed a sentimental time of year; it was a time of love, happiness, joy, and most of all, peace.

Neither she nor Lombard knew that all this was about to come to an abrupt end...

* * *

They were to arrive at Richard and Evelyn's at seven-thirty PM for Christmas dinner. It would be rather big, for it wasn't just Vera's family arriving, it would also be the Barclay's and Philip's mother.

Vera began to get ready at around six-thirty, exactly one hour beforehand. She and Philip would be leaving in just ten minutes and she wanted to look her absolute best.

While Philip was in one bathroom taking a shower, Vera (who had just finished hers and was feeling a bit better) had changed into a beautiful pine green velvet dress and white stockings and was now giving her hair, soft and fluffy, a few final brushes just to make it look nice and neat.

She could hardly wait to see her mother again. It had been a while since the two had last spoken to one another, and she realized now that she terribly missed her mother. The two had been quite close throughout Vera's lifetime. They had been there for each other through the good times and the bad, from when Vera fell ill with the Spanish influenza, to when she had gotten her very first period, to—

_Her period._

Vera sat up sharply and put down her hairbrush. When was her period supposed to arrive? Was it supposed to arrive now? Or was it supposed to have arrived the day before?

During her first few years of going through puberty, Vera's period had been a bit off-track. It was only when she was fifteen that it finally seemed to arrive at a precise time. This was how it was until after the incident with Hugo and Cyril, after which her period began to change. Afterwards, she started getting it on the sixteenth of every month.

Of course, _that_ changed after Indian Island—the doctor had said it was perfectly normal for periods to change after undergoing extreme stress, which was also the reason for hers to change after the first major stressful event in her life. Her period had arrived a week later than usual, but after that, it seemed to get back on track. Afterwards, she started getting it on the tenth of every month.

_The tenth._

"And it's Christmas," Vera whispered. "The twenty-fifth."

_Her period was late._

Her mind started racing. She and Philip had only slept together just the one time on Indian Island.

Which was on the third.

Which was exactly one week until the tenth.

And the tenth had come and gone.

And she still had no period.

* * *

This thought continued to haunt Vera when she and Lombard began to walk down the street to Richard and Evelyn's. She mentally tried to calm herself down: _Relax, Vera, just relax. There's probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for your period being late, other than...pregnancy. You can't be pregnant, you just _can't! _Perhaps it's just the stress from the move..._

_But the move didn't take place until nine days after your period was overdue,_ the rational side of her brain argued.

_Well, yes, but maybe there's just some sort of...hormonal imbalance going on right now for reasons you can't name but a doctor might be able to, which would account for your other symptoms...wait, symptoms, that's it! Mother never did say what the symptoms of pregnancy were, other than a missed period._

_Which is the most obvious sign. She herself said she wanted you to discover the pleasures and pains of pregnancy on your own._

_But she never said what those pleasures and pains were exactly. It's possible the symptoms are not what I have after all..._

_What about Fleta? What about Evelyn? Remember when they got pregnant? Remember waking up to the sound of Fleta retching in the bathroom? Remember what Evelyn told you about the discomforts of her pregnancy with Derek: "I'm sick every morning, my breasts hurt, and I can smell everything"? Sounds a lot like what you're going through right now, doesn't it?_

"You all right?"

"What?" said Vera, snapping out of her self-arguing. "Oh, yes! I'm just a bit excited, that's all. It's been a while since I last saw mother and father..."

"I sure do hope my mother has been able to forgive your father," said Lombard. He and Vera were now walking up to Evelyn's front door.

"Well, it's been a month," said Vera, trying to keep her mind off of her worries. "I'm sure she's forgiven and forgotten by now. After all, he didn't intend to get as nasty as he did."

Lombard rang the doorbell. "Hopefully, my mother has kept in mind that everyone makes mistakes."

Vera nodded weakly. "Yes," she said. "Everyone makes mistakes."

* * *

"Would you like some more turkey?"

"Oh, of course!"

"Pass the salt, please."

"Oh thank you!"

Although Vera hadn't entirely forgotten of her dilemma by suppertime, she had told herself that she would see a doctor tomorrow and that in the mean time, she should forget about her problems and enjoy the evening.

As Lombard had hoped, Carolina and Mr. Claythorne had buried the hatchet with one another and were cheerfully chattering away as though nothing had ever happened.

"Congratulations on your finally finding a job," said Carolina. "I hope you're happy with it."

"I'd be happier with my _own_ business, but it'll have to do for now," said Mr. Claythorne.

For once, the Barclay's were actually _behaving._ Not one quarrel was begun.

"How's my darling grandson doing?" asked Mrs. Barclay.

"He's growing like a _weed,_" said Richard. "Much, _much_ too fast! It seems like only yesterday we were just taking him home from the hospital."

"He's into _everything_ now," added Evelyn. "We can't keep our eyes off him for even a second or else he'll be getting into the pantry!"

Vera closed her eyes and moaned softly. The nausea was back...the smells...oh the blasted _smells_...

"You all right, dear?" asked Mrs. Claythorne.

Vera's eyelids fluttered open. "I'm fine, mother," she replied. "I just overate, that's all. I'll be back in a few minutes."

She got up from the table and walked into the living room to give herself a few minutes to recover from the smells threatening to overpower her.

While she was away, Lombard couldn't help but think, _Poor Vera. Well, I suppose we all overindulge during the season. Although come to think of it, Jennifer used to excuse herself from the dinner table whenever she was overwhelmed by all the food._

_And that was when she was pregnant..._

Lombard blinked and shook his head. He chatted with Richard about how the stock market was pulling itself back on its feet and how he himself didn't know what career to undertake now that he knew for certain he never wanted to accept any offering to go anywhere ever again, no matter how much it was worth.

When Lombard was about to list off some of the jobs he had in mind, Vera came back, her cheeks flushed. She resumed her place next to Lombard.

"Feeling better?" asked Mrs. Claythorne.

"Yes, of course," said Vera. "I just needed a few minutes to settle down. You see...I've had a nasty bug for the past few days and I _thought_ it was gone, but part of it is still there."

"Oh," said Mrs. Claythorne sympathetically. "Poor dear."

"You shouldn't have come then," said Evelyn. "Not if your stomach was still upset."

"Oh it isn't upset right now," said Vera quickly. "Just a bit...unstable."

"Well, I'll serve you some of the gentler foods for dessert," said Evelyn, getting up.

"Would you happen to have any chocolate cake?" asked Vera, suddenly tasting the rich, delicious substance of chocolate cake in her mouth.

"Sorry, but I didn't make it this year," apologized Evelyn. "I'll make some for you when you come back for the anniversary party, though."

_Jennifer had peculiar cravings,_ Lombard realized.

Vera yawned and stretched her arms.

"Tired, dear?" said Carolina gently.

Vera nodded. "It's been a long day," she explained.

"I understand," said Carolina. "The excitement of Christmas can really take it out of you."

Lombard had to agree on that point...and yet he couldn't quite forget Jennifer's constant naps during the day...

Evelyn was now serving dessert: Bread pudding. While everyone was taking a piece for themselves, the sound of carollers could be heard outside: _"Silent night...holy night...all is calm...all is bright...round yon virgin mother and child...holy infant so tender and mild..."_

The carol itself was touching enough to make many of the women's eyes brim with tears. Lombard began to shrug this one off to women's sensitivity...until he noticed that Vera really began to tear up at the words "mother and child, holy infant so tender and mild". She was quick to wipe the tears off her cheeks with her hand, but not quick enough for Lombard not to notice.

_Jennifer was oversensitive over the smallest things...and she knew long before I did..._

_Does Vera know something I don't?_

Yes, this would be something he would be asking her about once they were home.

He had made the mistake of not realizing what was happening to his first love once.

And he was not going to make that same mistake again.

* * *

Later that night, after all the gift exchanging and returning home, Lombard and Vera had changed into their pyjamas and were now sitting on the edge of the bed. For the past five minutes, Lombard had _tried_ to ask Vera the question he knew he had to ask, but she would keep interrupting him by babbling on about how wonderful the evening was.

"Wasn't tonight just _wonderful?_" sighed Vera.

"Really?" said Lombard in a mock surprise tone. "I wouldn't know; after all, you've only mentioned it three times already." He then said in a more serious tone, "Vera, I need to ask—"

"And that carol was _beautiful_, wasn't it?" sighed Vera. "I've always loved carols—they _can_ get annoying if they're all you listen to, but otherwise, they're quite beautiful. Especially about the part about the infant being so tender and mild. It is true, isn't it? Babies are so precious."

"True, true," said Lombard quickly. "Vera..."

"And that dinner was absolutely—"

"_Vera."_

Lombard now had to take Vera by the shoulders and (gently) pull her to face him. He was not going to let this opportunity to slip by.

He looked her in the eye and asked the question he had been longing to ask ever since dinner: "Vera, are you pregnant?"

Vera tried to look elsewhere, but Lombard took her hand in his and gently said, "Vera."

Vera finally managed to softly say, "I think I am."

There was a moment of silence before Lombard said, "Then we might as well see a doctor tomorrow."

"Yes," said Vera, uncomfortable. "We should."

And the two went to bed without another word.


	39. Pregnant or Not

39

**Pregnant or Not**

The next morning, Lombard found himself pacing back and forth in the doctor's office, waiting for Vera to return with the cup she had been given. Dr. Kelly was surprisingly understanding about their 'situation' and assured them that this wasn't quite as uncommon as they thought. He had also said that Vera did indeed have the symptoms of a pregnant woman, but had given her a cup to urinate in so the urine could be sent to the laboratory for further testing just to confirm their suspicions.

At this moment, Vera was in the washroom, relieving herself, while Lombard was anxiously waiting in the doctor's office.

"Fatherhood isn't such a bad thing, you know," said Dr. Kelly, trying to assure Lombard. "I personally find it to be very fulfilling."

"This isn't supposed to happen _now,_" said Lombard anxiously. "We agreed on waiting three or four years once we were _married._"

Dr. Kelly shrugged. "All I can say is, accidents _will_ happen if you're not careful."

"And I _was,_" insisted Lombard. He paused and thought. "Sort of," he said slowly. Then he realized..."No, not at _all._" He groaned and put his head in his hands. "_Please_ tell me there's another possibility to this other than pregnancy."

"Well, if she's not pregnant, she might just be ill, or have a slight hormonal imbalance," suggested Dr. Kelly. "But if she is, I assure you that within time, you will look upon this as a blessing."

"I doubt it," scoffed Lombard. "I keep changing my mind about fatherhood, not to mention I'm not that great with babies."

"Oh, you'll learn," said Dr. Kelly. "In time, you will learn."

* * *

Once Vera had handed the cup full of urine over, Dr. Kelly said it would be sent off to the lab and that it might take a few days for the results to come back, but would call them back.

The rest of the day was spent in their house, cold and silent. Vera and Lombard would try to take their minds off the possibility that they just might become parents by reading, but all of a sudden, babies seemed to appear in _all_ literature. Jane Eyre and her son with Rochester...Meg's twins...Pericles' daughter whose mother had apparently died giving birth to...

Realizing that taking their mind off of it by reading was futile, Lombard and Vera retired to the bedroom, where they each sat on opposite ends of the bed, not uttering so much as a breath to one another.

Lombard rubbed his aching temples with one hand. He had a confession to make, and he knew he had to make it before the results came back...but how to say it?

The silence finally grew too much to bear. Lombard said, "I have a confession to make." He hesitated slightly, fearing Vera's reaction before saying, "If you are pregnant, this is to be my second child."

Vera's head turned. "Second?" she repeated. Then, softly with realization, "Chester was the first, wasn't he?"

Solemnly, Lombard nodded. "Jennifer and I had a passionate love affair for about five months before she overheard me telling Morley that I never wanted to be a father—back then, anyway." His eyes shifted and there was a once-buried sadness in them coming to surface. "She thought I would leave her if she told me, so she left without even explaining why."

Vera was silent. She gave no response, which frightened Lombard. To hear nothing from her was worse than any infuriating words she could ever say.

When she went five whole minutes without saying so much as a word, Lombard decided to go on: "I only found about Chester early this year. Back in March. I came across Jennifer and Chester in the park. While Chester was off playing, Jen told me about how she had given birth to him on the twenty-sixth of July in 1933. That wouldn't happen to be the day you and Fleta came across the pregnant woman you were helping, now would it?"

Vera slowly nodded.

"After dropping vague hints," Lombard went on, "she finally told me, in a rather _blunt_ manner I must add, that there was one night where the protection broke...and that was how Chester came to be."

He laughed a bitter laugh. "At least I used _some_ form of protection, even if it was futile." His eyes once again shifted over to the buried sadness: "Well...anyway...after having the chance to play with Chester for a few minutes, I asked Jen why she didn't tell me...and she said it was because of what _I_ had said about not wanting to be a father. I told her that she hadn't stuck around for the _full _conversation between Morley and I, in which I confided in him that I was going to ask her to marry me."

The sadness was no longer buried now; it was about to come full force. "And that was when she told me," he said bitterly. "She and Morley were _engaged_. She had come to town to meet his family. She said it would be better if we were with other people. She said..." he swallowed a lump of sorrow, "she said, 'you'll make a good husband and father someday, Philip. But not now. Not with me.'"

He tried to mask his sadness with a smile. "As you can probably imagine, I gave Morley hell for it. I even crashed his _wedding._ Being the jackass that I was, I actually marched up to the priest and said I would take Jennifer to be my lawfully wedded wife."

He laughed a strange laugh that was a mingle of happiness and sorrow. "Well, to make a long story short—which is futile at this point—I got into a big fight with Morley that resulted in my leaving the wedding in fury...which was when I ran into my mother...but you already know about that."

Lombard paused to gain composure of himself before going on: "Two days later, I got called in by Morris and he told me about the offer. About Mr. Owen and Indian Island and the hundred guineas. Being the blind fool I was, I took it. After all, I had nothing to lose. I had no wife, I had no child, I had no friend, and...I had no mother. If I died, no one would care."

His voice started to break. He reached for a tissue besides the bed and lightly dabbed at his eyes and cheeks.

Vera was stunned. This was the first time she had ever seen Philip cry. She knew he was a sensitive being beneath his rough exterior, but to actually see him break down like this...

"So...what are you trying to say, exactly?" asked Vera softly.

Lombard took a deep breath and said, "What I'm saying is...if you _are_ pregnant, let me be a part of this baby's life. I won't be a good father, I'll admit to that. But I'll try. Just..._don't_ break my heart like Jennifer did. You know what it's like."

Tears lightly brimmed Vera's eyes. Yes. She knew _exactly_ of Lombard's pain. The circumstances surrounding their first loves leaving them may have been different, but the pain was very much the same.

"And if I'm not?" asked Vera in the same soft tone.

"If you're not," said Lombard, taking his hand in Vera's, moving a bit closer across the bed to her side, "then we'll take this as a lesson to be more careful next time." He looked her straight in the eye. "Just promise me," he whispered.

Vera blinked tears and nodded. "I promise," she whispered back.

And the two shared a hug that lasted for a long, long time.

* * *

Two days came and went. And there was no word about the results. Lombard and Vera went on with their lives in the most normal way possible while waiting. Of course, Vera was still vomiting, and she still felt tired, and she still ached, which was difficult to ignore, but she tried her best to ignore her symptoms.

On the twenty-eighth of December, in the evening, Vera felt the need to ask Lombard something while having dinner: "Does your mother know about Chester?"

Lombard looked up. "Yes, actually," he said. "In fact, I told her during our first meeting. It was what she had said about how I was the only family she had. I knew then I _had_ to tell her..."

* * *

_Lombard knew then he had to tell his mother something: "There's something I have to tell you. Remember that woman whose wedding you were at when we last met—Jennifer Hayes?"_

_Carolina nodded._

"_Well...I was badly injured in a fire shortly after stealing the natives' food," said Lombard slowly. "It's all right," he said quickly. "I'm better now. But anyway, Jennifer was the one who nursed me back to health within a few months. Afterwards, we started seeing more of each other and fell deeply, passionately in love. But when I went to propose to her, she broke it off with me and left._

"_And..." he hesitated, "a couple months back, I learned that Jennifer got pregnant from one of the passions we shared and I have a son named Chester whose existence I wasn't even aware of until we met again."_

_Lombard grew frightened by the silence. What would his mother say? Would she approve?_

"_So...I have a grandson," said Carolina softly. Then, she grinned. "I have a grandson!" Both her hands flew up to her mouth as she let out a cry of excitement. "I'm a grandmother!" She threw both arms around Lombard, startling him. Not knowing quite how to react, he awkwardly patted her on the back._

_When they separated, Lombard said, "Vera has no knowledge of this, so you can't breathe a word to her."_

"_Why ever not?" asked Carolina._

"_We're still in the early stages of our romance, and I'm not sure how she'd react," said Lombard. "I'll tell her someday, but not now. So promise me you won't tell her, okay?"_

"_Only if you tell me where my darling grandson is," said Carolina playfully._

"_He's living with the Morley's now and they live on..."_

* * *

"Oh, Philip, I wouldn't have judged you," said Vera. "But I'm glad to hear she took the news well."

"Yes, and hopefully she should take our personal news well if it is indeed true," said Lombard.

Just then, the telephone rang.

Lombard and Vera's eyes met. They knew instinctively what this call was for.

It was the doctor calling to tell them about the test results.

"I'll get it," said Lombard. He gently stroked Vera's hand and said, "Just remember: Pregnant or not, I'm there for you."

He got up and walked into the hall, where he got the phone. Vera got up and followed him. She stood nearby in the kitchen, listening to various parts of the conversation:

"Hello?...Oh, hello, Dr. Kelly..."

_So I was right,_ thought Vera. Her stomach was clenched now. This was it. She was about to learn the answer to the most important test of her life.

"Uh-uh....yes..."

There was a rather long pause. The look on Lombard's face did not change. Did this mean she wasn't pregnant after all?

"I see...thank you for your time. If we need you, we'll call...bye."

He hung up the phone. He walked up to Vera. "That was Dr. Kelly," he said. "The results came back."

Vera's heart sank. The look on Lombard's face gave it away long before he uttered the two words that would forever change both their lives:

"You're pregnant."


	40. Pregnant

40

**Pregnant**

Lombard held Vera for several minutes as she cried into his shoulder. Neither one of them could believe it. They had conceived a _child._ They had actually made a _baby._

A baby that neither one of them was sure they were entirely ready for.

"Well...now we know," said Lombard softly.

"My father is going to kill me," said Vera softly, her sobs letting up.

"No he won't," said Lombard firmly. "He'll have to fight me first." He gently lifted her chin up. "It'll be okay," he promised. "We'll announce the news at Evelyn and Richard's anniversary party at their house. That way, we'll still have some time to prepare what we're going to say. And just to get on your father's good side, and also because you won't fit into a gown by June," a lump formed in Lombard's throat as he began to realize the reality behind that statement, but he got rid of it, "we'll move the wedding up to sometime next month. Then the baby will at least be born in wedlock. Would that please your father?"

"I don't know," sighed Vera. "It might. I'm scared to take a chance, though."

"Don't be," said Lombard. "If we can survive Indian Island, we can survive _anything._"

* * *

The three days that led up to the final day of the year were the slowest three days of Lombard and Vera's lives. They would spend those days practicing what they were going to say and how to say it. But no matter how often they practiced or worded it, it always sounded wrong. It just didn't sound _right._

In addition to Vera's morning sickness and achiness, she would also act quite emotional, which scared her. Half the time, she didn't know if she was crying because of the hormones or from genuine fear of what was to come. She didn't know if she even _wanted_ to be a mother. She had always loved looking after children and longed to be have some of her own someday.

Was her fear genuine fear of having full responsibility for raising a human being who would be entirely dependent on her? Or was it just nerves that would eventually settle? Shouldn't she be _happy_ about the news if she always longed to have a child of her own? Why wasn't she happy? Was it because deep down she really hated children and did not want to be a mother? Or was she just taking a while to accept the news?

The fact that she couldn't sort out her emotions left Vera feeling vulnerable and scared and each night, she would cry herself to sleep while Lombard would sit up in bed and cuddle her until she fell asleep.

Lombard was also trying to cope in his own way. He put on a brave face for Vera's sake and acted as though he knew exactly what to do, but deep down, he was every bit as terrified as Vera was, if not more so.

What if this was a mistake? What if Jennifer leaving him had been a sign? What if he was never meant to be a father?

Ever since he learned where babies came from, he thought that he would never want to become a father.

Did he want to be a father? Or was he just reacting to his feelings for Vera? For that matter, had he changed his mind because of _Jennifer_, not Chester?

Lombard knew one thing for certain: He would be a _terrible_ father. He would not think it was attractive at birth. He always thought newborn babies looked absolutely disgusting. He would most certainly hold it the wrong way, or even hurt it in one form or another.

Oh, he would stay to at least _help._

But he wouldn't be very good at it.

These and many more fears haunted the minds of Lombard and Vera until finally, the dreaded day arrived: The final day of December, and of 1939.

* * *

The day did not start out well. By the time evening arrived, Vera had made five mad dashes to the bathroom and continued to feel sore. On top of all this, she was in tears while getting ready for Evelyn's party at six o'clock.

"Oh dear, I keep smudging my make-up," wept Vera, using one tissue to wipe her mascara-streaked cheeks.

Lombard straightened out his tie and said, "We are about to tell your parents that we will be giving them their second grandchild, and you're worried about your _make-up_?"

"Well, ex_cuse_ me for trying to make everything _perfect!_" snapped Vera, slamming one fist down on the nightstand.

"Sorry I asked," muttered Lombard.

"No you're _not_ sorry!" cried Vera, shooting up from the bed. "_You're_ not the one who will carry something that's _growing_ inside you, _you're_ not the one who's going to get _fat, you're_ not the one whose parents will _judge_ you!"

She stopped to take a breath, looking for an answer on Lombard's face.

"You're right," said Lombard finally. "I'm not the one who is going through all that. But I _am_ this child's father and I _am _the man who will be by your side when we tell your parents."

"It won't _just_ be my parents, Philip," said Vera softly, tears rapidly pouring down her face. "I'll also have to tell my sister, who _might_ be understanding..."

"You see?" said Lombard. "Always a silver lining."

"But," said Vera, "I'll also have to tell my in-laws. My mother in-law and I do not get along. She's always thought of me as a lowly tramp, and now...now, this will only _confirm_ her suspicions."

Lombard put his hands on his hips. "Well, then," he said, "what do you want to do? Abort it? Then we'd never have to tell a soul. You'd put your own life at risk, what with the unsanitary methods and all, but no one would ever know."

Vera looked down and shook her head. "No," she said softly. "You know how I feel about that."

"Then you'll just to have say 'to hell with her'," said Lombard. "They'll have to know sooner or later."

"I know," said Vera softly. She drew a breath. "I'm just scared."

Lombard gave her a hug. "What do I keep telling you?" he asked.

"That it'll be okay," replied Vera, placing her head on his shoulder.

"And it _will,_" said Lombard. "In fact..."

He pulled away ever so slightly and said, "How about we tell your sister first thing as soon as we get there? We'll arrive about an hour or so early—it begins at eight, right?—and we'll tell her together. That way, one person is out of the way."

"I suppose we could," said Vera slowly.

"Then it's settled," said Lombard. "We'll go as we are now and tell her. We might not look _fancy,_ but the sooner the better."

* * *

Evelyn could only sit there and blink while sitting down next to Vera and Lombard on the couch in her living room. She kept hoping for the expressions on their faces to change, for them to grin and say, "Joke!"

But they didn't.

Finally, Evelyn managed to say something: "You're _pregnant?_"

"Yes," said Vera, nodding. "You remember when I told you about what Philip and I did on Indian Island, right? Well...that's how the baby came to be. Or will _eventually_ come to be..."

"Baby," mouthed Evelyn.

"Vera will be around seven months by the time the wedding day rolls around, so we're going to get married a bit earlier," said Lombard.

Evelyn shook her head in disbelief.

"Evelyn, _please _say _something!_" begged Vera. "You're going to be an auntie! You'll have a little niece or nephew!" She gestured to herself. "_I'm_ going to be a _mother!_"

Evelyn finally gave some sort of reaction: She blinked back tears and smiled. "An auntie," she whispered. "And you..."

She threw both arms around Vera and the two sisters shared a tight hug. Lombard sat there feeling awkward.

Finally, the two sisters parted, both with tears streaming down their faces.

"Congratulations," said Evelyn, smiling. "I'm so happy for you. Really, I am. I just...I was hoping this would happen a bit _later_, that's all." Her fingertips lightly touched Vera's flat stomach. "A baby," she whispered. "My baby sister is actually going to have...a _baby._"

Lombard smiled at the heart warming sight, hoping that Evelyn just might forget about his involvement altogether...

"You!"

He had hoped too soon.

Evelyn's gaze met his. Lombard spoke: "Look, we _never_ meant for this to happen, honest, and—"

"And _you_ are going to be the best father you can, and that's _final,_" said Evelyn sternly. "_You_ got my sister into this."

"Evelyn," said Vera, lightly touching Evelyn's shoulder.

Evelyn relaxed. "Sorry," she apologized. She cleared her throat. "So...what were you saying about moving the wedding up?"

"Oh!" said Lombard, glad to know Evelyn wasn't mad at him anymore (he assumed). "Well, ah, we figured it would be best to move the wedding date up to next month, just because Vera won't fit into a wedding gown by the proper date."

"Well, I could sew a gown in her size by then," suggested Evelyn.

"No," said Lombard, shaking his head. "It would be, uh...it would be too awkward."

"I see," nodded Evelyn. Then, "Does father know?"

"Not yet," said Vera. "We're going to tell him tonight. In fact, we'll announce it later at dinner."

Evelyn said slowly, "How about I give you a bit more time to prepare by having you make the announcement at around...eleven?"

"That could work out," shrugged Vera.

The sound Derek wailing could be heard in the background. For a moment, the sound briefly chilled Lombard and Vera, for it reminded them of what was to come in their future.

"I'd better get to Derek now," said Evelyn, getting up. "Richard will be home any minute with the groceries."

And with that, she walked out of the living room and up the stairs.

"Well," sighed Lombard, "the easy part is out of the way."

"Right," nodded Vera. "Now for the hard part..."

* * *

The 'hard part' proved to be even harder than Vera had anticipated.

The dinner itself was a pleasant one; everyone was happy and (had it become a New Year's resolution they were putting into practice?) the Barclay's were every bit as peaceful as they had been at Christmas.

Lombard and Vera themselves joined in with the laughing and conversing, putting on a carefree mask to hide the terror within that grew with each passing hour.

Finally, at ten-thirty everyone gathered into the living room to discuss their resolutions for the upcoming new year.

"This year, I will try reading more," said Mrs. Claythorne. "We have several books at home that I've never even read!"

Vera squeezed Lombard's hand. It was Evelyn's idea to bring the resolutions out in the open so Vera could have an excuse to mention the pregnancy.

And her turn was next.

All eyes were on Vera. Suddenly, she felt sick. She felt like running out of the living room and to the bathroom, but stood there. She gulped and smiled. "My resolution," she muttered, before finally saying, "My resolution...is...to put my past behind me and look towards a brighter future. After all, if I let the one failed relationship I had with another man in the past affect me today, I would not be here, engaged to the man I love..."

The words caught themselves in Vera's throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father looking at her, a gleam of pride in his eye.

That gleam was about to disappear.

Vera cleared her throat and tried again: "Sorry. My throat is...a bit cloudy. Anyway," she looked around to make sure she had everyone's full attention; there was no way she'd be able to repeat herself, "if I let the one failed relationship I had with another man in the past affect me today, I would not be here, engaged to the man I love, and...pregnant with his child."

There were some gasps between the Barclay's, but they kept quiet, which made the silence that followed all the deadlier.

Vera squeezed Lombard's hand even tighter, waiting for _some_ sort of reaction.

A voice broke the silence: "Is this a joke?"

It was the voice of Vera's father.

Vera turned to face her father, unable to look him in the eye. She shook her head. "No, father," she said, her voice cracking. "This isn't a joke. I'm pregnant."

Mr. Claythorne shook his head. "You're pregnant," he said in a dangerously calm voice. "Pregnant." Then, his face suddenly wrenched into pure fury and he took a giant step forward and spat, "You _bastard!_ How could you do that to Vera, to someone who loved you, who _trusted_ you not to violate her?"

Oh no.

He was _completely_ blowing it out of proportion.

Vera suddenly found her voice again and began to say, "Father—"

"Vera, this is not your fault and don't think that even for a second," said Mr. Claythorne firmly. "_He_ is the one to blame. _He_ charmed you and convinced you that he would never harm you and—"

"Are you accusing _my_ son of _rape?!?_" cried out Carolina.

"If the apple falls from the same tree," sneered Mr. Claythorne. "It would make him just like his father, wouldn't it?"

"How _dare_ you!" gasped Carolina.

Mrs. Claythorne kept out of it. She was still in shock from the news.

Mrs. Barclay smirked and whispered to her husband, "Who needs cinema or stage when you've got _this?"_

"Well we both _know_ this wasn't _my_ child's idea," sneered Mr. Claythorne. "She's too _virtuous _for that. She would _never, ever_ give her virginity in _such_ a loose manner unless she was _raped!_ Isn't that right, dear?" He turned to a frightened Vera.

Her frightened silence was what made Mr. Claythorne go to everyone, "There! You see? Vera is _not_ to blame for _any_ of this; it's the fault of that _bastard_ who inherited his father's ability to _rape _young, innocent girls, to _steal_ their virtue, to—"

_SMACK!_

Everyone was shocked to see Mr. Claythorne stumbling backward after having been struck so violently across the face by the hand of none other than Carolina Lombard.

"You forgot to mention something else," said Carolina with a nasty smile on her face. "Philip _also_ inherited his mother's ability to beat the living daylights out of _anyone_ who _dared_ speak against the family!"

Mrs. Barclay deeply regretted she did not bring back any popcorn from her one visit to America.

Once Mr. Claythorne had regained his composure, he said, "So you admit it? You admit that _your_ son raped _my _daughter and has left a mark on her because of it?"

"If you think you're so smart, let me ask you something," said Carolina angrily. "If Philip raped Vera, why is she still engaged to him? True, she wouldn't have immediately admitted to _why_ she was breaking off the engagement at first, but she would've. Trust me, she _would have._"

"I may not be an _expert_ on rape," Mr. Claythorne said hotly, "but I know enough to know that rapists like to have a certain power over their victims. That's why they're still together, isn't it? That's why Vera acts like she loves him. It's because _he_ has power over _her._" Once again, he turned to Vera. "You tell her," he said.

Vera looked back and forth. First, at her father, then at Carolina, and then at Philip. She knew why he wasn't bothering to defend himself; it was because he could not defend himself without making it sound like he was guilty.

She knew she would have to straighten this out herself.

She turned back to her father, looked him in the eye and said, "There is a very good reason why Philip and I are still engaged, actually." She put her arms around Lombard. "Because I love him."

Mrs. Barclay let out a cackle of glee.

"That's what he _wants_ you to think," sneered Mr. Claythorne.

"He didn't rape me, father," said Vera. "He would _never_ do such a thing. I _asked_ for it."

Now it was Mr. Barclay's turn to let out a chuckle. Much as he didn't want to admit it, the events unfolding around him were more entertaining than the latest Gabrielle Turl film.

"You..._asked_ for it?" asked Mr. Claythorne.

"Yes, father," said Vera, now putting her arms at her side. "_I_ came to _him._ _I_ suggested that _we_ spend the night together. And you know something else, father? This was when we went back to Indian Island."

She looked around the room. "Yes, you all heard that right," she said. "I gave my virginity to Philip Lombard on the same island where we were nearly killed. In the same _house_, no less. In fact, why don't I tell you all what happened?"

"Oh, _please_ do," said Mrs. Barclay with a wicked grin on her face.

"Then I will," said Vera firmly. "At around eleven-thirty, I could not sleep, so I got up to have a walk around the house and bumped into Philip. We almost went back to our rooms, when _I_ suggested that we share a room for the night. And it was _his_ room. Yes, I, Vera Elizabeth Claythorne, spent the night in a _man's_ room, wearing nothing but a nightgown, while he wore nothing but pyjamas."

Mr. Barclay held back a laugh.

"We talked for the first few minutes, and then we started _kissing._ And you know what else? _I _started it. _I_ removed _his_ top. Then we _French kissed._ Yes, father, we _shoved_ our tongues into each other's mouths, and I _liked_ it!"

Mr. Barclay could no longer hold back his laugh.

"After that, he proceeded to remove my _nightgown._ And he _waited _for _me_ to tell him it was okay. And I _did._"

Mrs. Barclay let out a mock gasp of horror.

"After _that_, we removed his _bottoms._ And _then..._we made love. And I loved every single minute—no, every single _second_ of it."

Vera looked around the room. Looks varied from shock to amusement. She looked her father in the eye. "Well," she said softly, "now you know." And with that, she marched out of the living room and straight to the former guest room she had once slept in and slammed the door.

Lombard turned to face everyone and spoke the first words since Vera had broken the news: "Well...there you have it. Black-and-white, plain as day. We made love. Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go outside and wait for my fiancée."

With his head held high, he marched out of the living room, grabbed his coat from the coat rack, threw it on, opened the door, and slammed it shut.

There was a silence that lasted five minutes before Mr. Barclay cheerfully said, "So, when's the next show?"

* * *

**A/N: Now why can't my family reunions be that entertaining?!?**

**Lol, any-hoo, as you can see, I have changed my pen name to Jane Poirot. Check my profile for details.**


	41. Happy New Year

41

**Happy New Year**

Vera kept her sobs as quiet as she could, fearing that if she were overheard, her father would jump right back to his outrageous conclusion.

So now they knew. And her father had not been angry at _her;_ he had been angry at _Philip._ Well, she had expected him to _partially_ blame Philip, but she had _never_ expected him to accuse Philip of..._rape._

Of course, she couldn't have just stood there and allow her father to try to make Philip look like the villain; what kind of fiancée would she be if she did _that?_ Oh, but what to _do_ now that he knew? Would he be supportive of her decision to marry Philip a bit earlier than expected?

What about her mother? What had _she_ thought of it? She hadn't said a word—was that good or bad?

Vera heard a soft knock on the door, followed by her mother's voice saying, "Vera? May I come in?"

Vera was now aware that the pillow she had cried into was hot and wet from her boiling tears. She curled herself up into a ball and called out flatly, "Yes."

She heard the door open and close. She closed her eyes. What would her mother say? Was she angry? Was she disappointed?

She felt a soft hand brush against her face. "Vera."

Vera slowly opened her eyes and looked up. Her mother was sitting on the bed with an inexpressible face. "So you're pregnant," she said softly.

Vera, feeling quite ashamed, propped herself up and somehow found the words, "Mother...I'm really sorry."

"I just want to know one thing," said Mrs. Claythorne, holding up a hand. "Do you truly regret what you did with Philip?"

Vera was about to say, "Yes," but then she looked back on the night her unborn child had been conceived...the moonlight pouring in through the window...the strange yet delightful sensation of another tongue moving around in her mouth...her hand feeling a sturdy heartbeat...the warmth of Philip's body against hers...

"No," she answered truthfully. "It was the best night of my life, and I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Mrs. Claythorne gently smiled. "As long as you don't have any regrets over what happened, and as long as this baby is making you happy rather than miserable, that's what's important to me. And besides," she grinned, "I can't wait to hold another grandchild in my arms. I was hoping you'd wait until you were married, but as long as you're happy..."

"And I _am_," Vera assured her mother. "I was just afraid of how you'd react. And to tell the truth, I'm a bit terrified myself."

"As any mother expecting her first child is," assured Mrs. Claythorne. "When I was pregnant with your sister, I was excited about becoming a mother, but I was also scared out of my wits. Your father and I had barely been married for more than a year, I was just entering adulthood, and all these strange things were happening to my body. I kept wondering if this was a mistake, if perhaps I wasn't meant to be a mother, but from the moment I held your sister for the very first time, I knew it would all be worth it."

"Was Evelyn, well...planned?" asked Vera. "For that matter, was _I_ planned?"

"Well, dear, I myself think the first child is seldom planned," replied Mrs. Claythorne thoughtfully. "All of a sudden, keeping track of your cycle becomes more important than ever and sometimes you get it right, and other times you get it wrong. Your father and I had wanted to wait a few more years until we had our first child, so naturally, Evelyn was a bit of a surprise. As for you..." she paused, trying to find the right words, "...you were..._semi-planned_, I think. At the time of your conception, your father and I were thinking of having another baby, but we didn't actually _think _I would get pregnant, so you can imagine the delightful surprise I got five weeks later to learn that I hadn't come down with a tummy bug; I was going to have another baby!"

Vera shifted her legs a bit. So she was planned somewhat. She supposed this was good.

Her mind then shifted over to something that took her by surprise: The other guests. How had their lives started out? How many had been born of love? Of rape? How many had been born into a family, or into an orphanage? What were _their_ lives like before Indian Island? Had they been happy? Or had their lives been miserable?

It felt strange, to be here, expecting her first child with Philip...when none of the other guests were here.

Vera's eyes watered. "Oh mother," she breathed. "I can't believe that everyone else is dead...but Philip and I are still here. We're still here!"

Her understanding mother gently held her and let her cry into her shoulder. "Well, dear, that's the miracle of life," said Mrs. Claythorne. "An old life dies, and a new life is born."

Vera lifted her head off her mother's shoulder and, for the first time since she had found out the news, placed both hands on her stomach. "A new life is born," she softly whispered.

* * *

Lombard did not mind the cold air in the slightest. It was better than being back in _there,_ having to face Mr. Claythorne's _horrible_ accusations.

He laughed in spite of himself. Had the situation not been so serious, the incident would have actually been quite funny. Perhaps he would find it funny in later years when telling his child of...

_His child._

The very term made Lombard shiver. He was actually going to be a _father._ Now that Charles was married to Jennifer, he was no longer Chester's father. He had impregnated Jennifer, yes, but that did not make him Chester's father. He had also impregnated Vera, and was going to marry her and stay to help raise the baby.

That would make him a father.

The door opened, causing Lombard to briefly jump. What if it was Mr. Claythorne, not convinced of Vera's confession, ready to take him on...?

But no, it wasn't; it was his mother, causing Lombard to relax.

"Oh, Philip," said Carolina breathlessly. "I was afraid you'd gone far."

"No, I haven't," said Lombard. "Although I'm sure Vera's father would like me to."

"Oh, to hell with Vera's father!" cried Carolina. "Who cares what he thinks? _I've_ chosen not to let his insensitive remarks get to me, so why should you?"

"Because one of us has to make up for the one who slapped him silly," said Lombard, smiling faintly.

Carolina laughed. "_Oh, _did that feel good!"

"You're setting a _terrible_ example for my future son or daughter, you know," said Lombard, ignoring the funny feeling he got from using the term, 'my future son or daughter'.

"Well, it's not as if they can _see_ just yet, now can they?" asked Carolina.

"I take it, then, that you're happy with the news?" asked Lombard.

"Indeed I am," nodded Carolina. "Married or not, there is no shame in parenthood." She sighed, "I just feel bad for the poor girl, what with her father and all. I just hope the spunk she showed in standing up to him tonight stays with her for the rest of her pregnancy."

"I'm sure it will," said Philip. "After all Vera's been through, she's a fighter."

"You seem to be taking this rather well," commented Carolina. "I'd have thought you'd be in a panic by now."

"Actually," said Lombard slowly, "I...am." He sighed, "I just don't know if I'll be a good father or not. I don't like the sight of a newborn baby, I don't like the idea of being pestered every five minutes for a bedtime story, and I _especially_ don't like the idea of something calling me 'daddy'."

Carolina smiled a bittersweet smile. "I was not around to raise you, nor did I have anymore children after, so I'm afraid I cannot tell you if parenting is a rewarding experience or not. What I _can_ say is that you're worrying over nothing. You'll be a _great_ father."

"How do you know?" asked Lombard.

"Well, you're worried about whether or not you'll be a good father, aren't you?" pointed out Carolina. "That means you care, right?"

"I suppose," said Lombard slowly. He checked his watch. "Five minutes to midnight," he said. "Should we head back in?"

"I suppose we should," said Carolina.

* * *

No one said a word when both Lombard and Vera with their respected mothers came back to the living room for the countdown. They just sat there in an uncomfortable silence, looking over at the grandfather clock, waiting for it to start chiming.

There were only five minutes left...then four...then three...then two...mere seconds...five...four...three...two...one...

_BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG-BONG._

"Happy new year," spoke up Richard.

"Happy new year," muttered everyone.

1940...a year that Lombard and Vera had lived to see, but eight others had not.

1940...a year where Lombard and Vera would finally get married.

1940...a year where Lombard and Vera would become parents.

* * *

"Goodbye, everyone," called out Evelyn as each person began to leave.

Vera saw her father begin to leave with her mother. She called out, "Goodbye, father."

Not so much as a grunt.

Once the door had closed, it was just Evelyn, Richard, Derek, Lombard, and Vera. Tired from the excitement and emotional from the hormones, Vera began to cry.

"So...when in January would you and Philip like to get married?" asked Evelyn.

"I don't know," sighed Vera.

"You know," said Lombard, "my birthday is on the sixth. Perhaps we shall get married then. It will be the best birthday present I'll ever have."

"Maybe," said Vera quietly. "But _where_ will we get married, Philip? _Where?_"

"How about Indian Island?" suggested Richard. "We could all go there together on the sixth, put on some fancy clothing, and have the boatman marry the two of you off. It would be rather fitting; after all, that was where you first met, and it was where the baby was conceived."

"Aye, aye!" said Derek, playing with his stuffed bear on the floor.

"You heard it from Derek," said Vera. "I suppose that's what we'll do."

Lombard picked up an empty coffee cup and gave it to Vera while he took the other. They each clinked their cups together. "Happy new year," said Lombard.

Vera smiled faintly. "Happy new year."


	42. Preparations

42

**Preparations**

Richard made the arrangements the next morning. Fred was delighted to take another trip back to Indian Island, but wasn't sure exactly _why_ they wanted to get married sooner (Richard had decided telling him about the baby wasn't necessary).

After the easy part was out of the way, Vera now had to work on the hard part, which wasn't choosing a dress (she and Lombard agreed on wearing the formal wear they had worn on their first night on the island), or finding the perfect bridesmaids (Evelyn was the sole bridesmaid), or choosing the cake (which would be prepared and served by Evelyn herself).

The hard part was convincing her father to come to the wedding.

Which was why Vera could only sit by the phone in the hall of her and Lombard's house for about ten minutes before Lombard said, "The sooner you get it over with, the more willing he'll be to come to our wedding."

"But what if he isn't?" asked Vera. "What if this doesn't change his mind about anything and he _still_ doesn't want to come?"

"Well, I'm sure your mother will at least," shrugged Lombard. "So go on."

Vera slowly began to dial _a_ number...but it wasn't her parents' number.

It was Fleta's number.

* * *

"Oh my _God!_" laughed Fleta's voice on the other line. "Vera Claythorne, miss goody-two shoes, had s_ex!_ And now she's _knocked up!_ Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Vera rolled her eyes and said, "You can stop laughing at any time, Fleta."

"What did I say?" teased Fleta. "I _knew_ you and Philip would eventually do the dirty deed one day! So, how good is he in bed?"

Vera's jaw dropped. "Fleta!"

"Aw, c'mon, you can tell your cousin Fleta all about it and none of it will go back to Aunt Clara or Uncle Fred," said Fleta in a nonchalant manner.

"Well, for your information, Fleta, it is absolutely none of your business," said Vera firmly.

"Aw, you're no fun!" said Fleta. "So what were you saying about this wedding of yours?"

"Oh, well, Philip and I are getting married on Indian Island in just a few days," said Vera. "On the sixth, as a matter of fact. But I wouldn't want you to go through all that trouble..."

"It would no trouble at all," insisted Fleta. "But I'm afraid we won't be able to come out that day. Avon's mother will be coming to town and we all want to make her feel like she's the Queen of England." Then, "I assume Uncle Fred threw a temper tantrum?"

"Well, sort of," said Vera slowly. "Only it wasn't directed at _me,_ it was directed at _Philip._ He...well, he thought that Philip had..._raped_ me."

"No!" gasped Fleta.

"Oh yes," sighed Vera. "To make a long story short, I came forward and said it was all my doing. He's still not speaking to me."

"Then it's his loss," said Fleta. "He's the one who will miss out on his other daughter's wedding _and_ the birth of his second grandchild."

"But that's it," said Vera. "I don't _want_ him to miss anything. I want him and mother to be there for—for everything."

"Well, my parents weren't there when Matthew was born, or when I got married, and it didn't bother me in the slightest," said Fleta. "So why should it bother you?"

Vera sighed, "Because I'm not you."

There was a long pause before Fleta said, "Well indeed you're not me. So..._bon chance_, as the French say."

"_Merci beaucoup,_" replied Vera. "I'll need it."

She hung up the phone and sighed.

"I take it, then, that Fleta took the news well?" asked Lombard from the kitchen as he prepared himself a sandwich.

"Yes," said Vera. "She won't be able to come, but yes, she took it well."

"That leaves only one other person, you know," pointed out Lombard as he put the bread on top.

Vera bit her lip and put one hand on the phone. She picked it up slowly and began to dial her parents' number. She suddenly felt quite sick, but told herself she had to go through with this.

She waited and waited for someone to pick up the phone on the other end...

Then...

"Hello?"

Vera's stomach felt a bit calmer. It was her mother who had answered.

"It's Vera," said Vera. "I'm just calling to let you know that Philip and I are getting married a bit earlier than planned. We will marry on the sixth of January on Indian Island at around nine o'clock. You and father both are invited to come."

"Why, I'd love to, dear!" replied Mrs. Claythorne. "I'm not quite sure about your father, though...he's still a bit upset over...you know..."

"Right," said Vera quietly. "Well, can you at least _try_ to convince him to come?"

"I'll try," said Mrs. Claythorne. "But I'm not sure if it'll work. I've tried to get him to view your pregnancy as a blessing, but he just won't listen. I think you may even have to come over and talk to him in person."

"I will?" asked Vera, feeling her stomach dropping.

"Yes," sighed Mrs. Claythorne. "Your father is out now, so he doesn't know about this, but I think you should pay him a surprise visit tomorrow and sort things out."

Vera slowly said, "I suppose I _could_ come for a _little_ while..."

* * *

And so it was that Vera Claythorne (soon to be Lombard in just four days) found herself standing in front of the house she grew up in the next day in the beginning of the afternoon.

To her dismay, it was not a day that raged snow. It was a serene day where the snow lay calmly and peacefully like a meadow of sleeping sheep in the fields. Vera had been hoping for there to be a raging snow storm so she would have a valid excuse not to come...and yet here she was.

Ignoring her instincts telling her to turn back, Vera rapped on the door at least three times.

During the five-second waiting period, Vera suddenly became quite aware of how cold it was. It wasn't freezing, but it was cold enough to make her lips go numb. Or was that just from nerves?

When the door finally opened, Vera was relieved to see her mother standing in the doorway. "Why, hello, there!" she said, being careful not to mention Vera's name. "You must be _freezing!_ Come on in, come on in."

Vera took a few steps indoors, warming up somewhat as her mother closed the door behind her.

"Your father is in the kitchen," whispered Mrs. Claythorne, taking off Vera's coat and hanging it up on the coat rack. "Just follow me."

Vera solemnly walked right behind her mother. This house...she had grown up in this house. Was it really only five years ago that she had left this house to be Cyril's governess? It seemed almost impossible.

When they made it into the kitchen, Mr. Claythorne was putting his dishes in the sink, unaware that his daughter was standing right behind him.

"Fred?" called out Mrs. Claythorne. "We have a special guest today."

"Whoever it is, it had better not be Mrs. Bowman," said Mr. Claythorne, beginning to turn around. "She's a real goss—"

Vera tensed up when her father stopped talking upon seeing her.

Mr. Claythorne's mouth gaped open. "She—you—Clara, can we talk?"

"No, Fred, I think it is you and Vera who need to talk," said Clara calmly. "I'll leave the two of you alone for a few minutes."

The atmosphere grew deadly the moment Clara stepped out of the kitchen. Vera was afraid to speak, wondering what her father would say. She finally managed to say, "You know, father, we still need a minister...would you be kind enough to find one for us?"

"What am I supposed to say?" said Mr. Claythorne in the same dangerously calm voice he had used on New Year's Eve. "Excuse me, sir, my daughter is pregnant out of wedlock, would you be kind enough to wed her and the bastard who knocked her up?"

"_Father,"_ said Vera tensely.

"How could you let this happen?" asked Mr. Claythorne, the shame written all over his face. "I wasn't surprised when it happened to _Fleta,_ but you...I thought you were virtuous enough to know better."

"I _am_ still virtuous, father," said Vera calmly, deciding to leave out "aside from the time I killed a little boy," and replacing it with, "I just...let myself go that night, that's all."

The words were like sheer poetry to Mr. Claythorne's ears.

He hated poetry.

"Let yourself _go?_" said Mr. Claythorne in a voice that suggested he was on the verge of anger. "What do you mean you let yourself _go?"_

"What I mean is..." Vera hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Well...Philip and I...we were beginning to fall faster and faster into our relationship and...one thing led to another..."

"And now you're pregnant," said Mr. Claythorne flatly. "Vera, do you have _any_ idea what it takes to be a parent? For that matter, does _Philip_ have any idea what it takes?" He shook his head. "How could you do this without thinking of what might happen?"

"I _had _thought about what might happen in the past, father," said Vera, hoping to reach some sort of reconciliation. "That night, all thoughts of what it would lead to flew out of my head. And yes, I _do_ have some sort of idea about what being a parent might be like. And Philip...he keeps saying he'll make a terrible father, but he's just not used to the idea; I _know_ he'll do a great job."

Mr. Claythorne could only just shake his head. "You're blind, Vera, and you're being blind on purpose. You're letting the romantic scenario of you and Philip and that baby being a happy little family cloud your better judgment. How do you know either one of you is truly ready?"

"Why are you acting like I'm sixteen?!?" blurted out Vera. "In just a few months, I'll be _twenty-six!_ Exactly ten years older than Fleta was when _she_ got pregnant! Unlike her, _I'm_ responsible! _I_ know who the father is and we're going to get married! Why can't you just accept that?!?"

"Because at the moment, you're acting like a six-year-old," rebutted Mr. Claythorne.

Vera snapped, "Oh, forget it!" She stormed out of the kitchen and into the living room, where she sat down on the couch in a huff.

Mrs. Claythorne, who had been listening to the conversation from a few feet away, walked into the kitchen. "It didn't sound like it went too well," she commented.

"I can't believe her," muttered Mr. Claythorne. "I thought she knew better." He shook his head. "Pregnant. And by someone who left twenty-one men to die."

"By someone who is willing to marry her," said Mrs. Claythorne. "Most men would've just gotten up and left, but Philip is _staying._" She then asked, "What is it that leaves you truly upset, Fred? Is it the fact that our daughter is pregnant before her wedding night? Or the fear that Philip somehow hurt her, or is going to hurt her and break her heart, just like Hugo?"

Mr. Claythorne did not answer that, giving Mrs. Claythorne the answer she needed. "Now, Fred," she said gently, "I saw your reaction that night Vera told us the news. I may have been in shock, but that did not mean I wasn't completely unaware of what was going on. You know Vera's a good girl. You know she'd never sleep around."

Mr. Claythorne finally said, "Is she happy about it?"

"She's a bit scared, but she's happy for the most part," replied Mrs. Claythorne.

Mr. Claythorne relaxed. "I guess that's good," he said slowly. He sighed, "All right. I'll try being a bit more supportive. But I'm not entirely happy with this, mind..."

"Oh, Fred, the moment you hold that baby in your arms, you will fall in love with it and it'll be as though there was no animosity at all," said Mrs. Claythorne cheerfully.

* * *

Vera used one hand to wipe the tears off her face and the other to gently rub her nauseous stomach. Coming here was a mistake. She should _never_ have come. Why did she even bother when she knew how her father would react?

Perhaps she had been just a _bit_ childish, but still, that gave him no excuse to try to tell her she was irresponsible. How dare he? She was _nothing_ like Fleta. At least she was _trying_ to do what was right...or was it right? What if _he_ was right? What if she wasn't ready for this?

Vera fought down her fear and nausea and thought, _Nonsense. This is what's right for me and for her._

_Her?_

Vera frowned. How could she know if the baby was a boy or a girl? She was only a month or two along and she was already assuming her very first child would be a girl?

She heard footsteps, causing her to look up. She saw her father.

Hope began to leap up in her heart. Had he changed his mind? Would he come to her wedding after all?

"I know this good minister I could find for you," said Mr. Claythorne stiffly. "I don't think he'd ask too many questions."

Vera relaxed. "So, are you coming?" she asked.

"I can't come if I don't know where or when the wedding is," said Mr. Claythorne.

Vera smiled. "It will be on Indian Island. On the sixth this month. The ceremony itself will be at around nine o'clock in the evening, so I'd best advise you to come at six. The boatman will first drop me and Evelyn off, then pick up you, Philip, the minister, and the rest of the guests."

She stood up and began to walk over to the coat rack.

"Well," said Mr. Claythorne, "if this is what you want...then I'll see you there."

Vera smiled. "Goodbye, father."

Now that the most stressful part was out of the way, there was only one thing left in store for Lombard and Vera for the time being: Their long-anticipated wedding.


	43. The Wedding

43

**The Wedding**

This was it.

The day was here.

The biggest day of Lombard and Vera's lives that would only be topped by the birth of their first child.

Their wedding day.

The night before, Vera had gone over to Evelyn's to sleep over for the night as it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding on the big day. She had heard stories of women being nervous wrecks right before they got married and was surprised to find herself feeling perfectly calm but excited about it.

It wasn't until she woke up the next morning that she began to realize what these women were on about.

The moment Vera woke up at around eight o'clock the next morning, she had already begun to feel nauseous. She decided to just sit back and wait for it to go away...until she realized something: _Today's the big day. Today's the day I'm getting...married. After thinking it would never happen...and now it is..._

Vera leaped out of the guest bed, thrust the door open, ran down the hall and to the nearest bathroom, where she leaned over the toilet and began to empty her stomach's contents. What she usually had was morning sickness; thinking about the upcoming wedding only made her feel worse and have 'wedding-morning sickness'.

When Vera was done, she heard Evelyn's voice say, "I remember going through that."

Vera turned around and looked up to see Evelyn standing in the doorway. "It was not very pleasant at all as I recall it," said Evelyn. "Fortunately, it only lasted until my third month." She laughed, "You know, I'm beginning to see why mother wanted us to discover the 'pleasures and pains' on our own; because if she told us just what we had to go through, we'd never want children!"

Vera managed to peak a small smile at that.

As though reading her mind, Evelyn said, "I assume it's part nerves, am I right?"

Vera nodded.

"Well, I got a bit jittery on the big day myself," confessed Evelyn. "I kept panicking and wondering if this was right and if it was too late to turn around and run away, but I went through with it." She smiled. "And I'm glad I did. You'll be, too."

Vera suddenly realized how hungry she was and said, "What do you have for breakfast?"

"What would you like?" asked Evelyn.

"Grapefruit," replied Vera instantly, much to her surprise as she hated grapefruit.

Evelyn laughed, "Well, if I needed any further proof you're pregnant! You used to detest grapefruit! I personally love it, though, so you're in luck."

* * *

Back at their house, Lombard was on the phone with Morley, making a phone call he had been meaning to make for some time now before getting caught up in other things.

"First of all, Morley, I am deeply sorry for not calling you about this sooner, but you see, Vera and I are getting married this evening, and I would appreciate it very much if Chester could come," explained Lombard. "_If_ he can, I mean."

"Well, like you said, it _is_ at the last minute and I'm almost positive Chester has plans to see his maternal grandparents in the countryside today," said Morley's voice. "I _think_ it may be tomorrow, but I'll have to check with Jen. But wait," he said, "didn't you say you and Vera were getting married in _June?_ Why are you moving the wedding date up now?"

Lombard paused. He wanted to tell Morley eventually, but telling him now of all times felt a bit awkward. "Well...we just can't wait," he said slowly.

"Wait a second," said Morley suddenly. "You also told me you and Vera had slept together...and you were so vehement in insisting that no mistake had been made...the two of you _did _create a mistake after all, didn't you?"

Lombard could picture Morley smirking on the other line. "For your information, Morley, we did not make a mistake," he said. "We made a surprise."

"Ha!" said Morley. "I knew it! You _claim_ you don't want to be a father, but you just keep proving me wrong!"

"We're getting married early for her father's sake," said Lombard, trying to avoid Morley's gloating. "He was not exactly pleased to hear the news, but Vera says he's slowly accepting it."

"I suppose I can understand it from his point of view," said Morley thoughtfully. "I'm sorry, Phil, but to be perfectly frank, I would not be happy if my daughter became pregnant by a man who left twenty-one men to die."

Lombard had to stifle a laugh.

"Well, anyway, I'll check with Jennifer to see when Chester's visiting his grandparents and call you back soon," said Morley. "Goodbye and good luck. I'm sure you'll be a great father."

To that, Lombard only smiled and said, "Goodbye, Morley."

* * *

Morning blended into afternoon, which in turn blended into three o'clock, which happened to be the time when Evelyn and Vera would go drive down to the docks of Sticklehaven.

"We're getting closer to the big moment, Vera," said Evelyn. "We're in the final stretch now."

"Don't remind me," muttered Vera, leaning back with her eyes closed, ignoring her spinning stomach.

"You'll be just _fine,_" insisted Evelyn. "Just think: Once you and Philip are married, father will stop making such a mountain out of this molehill of a pregnancy...as much."

"This baby was _never_ supposed to happen," muttered Vera. "This was a complete _accident._ I wanted to wait until Philip and I had a more stable situation—how _can_ we raise a child?"

"With as much love and devotion as you can," was Evelyn's reply.

* * *

"So this is Indian Island," remarked Evelyn once she and Vera had reached their destination.

"Yes, it is," said Vera, feeling increasingly lightheaded with each step she took up the stony steps. She didn't feel quite as terrified as she had the last time she had visited. Then again, this was because she was too busy focusing on her jitters to notice.

"I remember reading all about it in the papers," said Evelyn, following Vera up the steps. "First, it was owned by that Elmer Robson fellow—was that his name?—but then his wife grew seasick and he put up the island for sale; then there were the rumours about Gabrielle Turl buying it before it was confirmed Mr. Owen—who was really the insane judge—was the owner, or was it after? Can't recall. And it was also rumoured that Lord Llewellyn was using it for his honeymoon and—"

Vera spun around and snapped, "If you love Indian Island so much, why don't you just divorce Richard and marry it? _Then_ we could have a _double_ wedding!" She spun back around and marched up to the house alone.

Evelyn winced, but looked back on the occasions when she would nearly bite Richard's head off over the smallest things during her pregnancy with Derek, and shrugged it off and carried on.

* * *

At six o'clock, Lombard stood at the docks of Sticklehaven, rubbing his hands together to keep warm. As it turned out, Chester could not come; he was indeed going off to the country. He was a bit disappointed, but only for a moment. He had more important things to worry about right now.

Namely, facing Mr. Claythorne during the ride back to the island.

At the moment, he was standing beside his mother and the boatman.

"So," said Carolina, smiling, "happy birthday, darling."

"Thank you, mother," said Lombard uncomfortably. He muttered, "My God, I'm going to be a _husband_..._and_ a father..."

"You'll do just fine," assured Carolina.

"Why aren't the Claythorne's here yet with that minister they promised?" asked Lombard.

"Oh, they're probably just having difficulties getting here, that's all," said Carolina. "Their estimation of how long it would probably take to get from their home to here might have been a bit off."

"I certainly hope you apologize for striking him when he gets here," said Lombard.

"Him? Fred, you mean?" said Carolina. "They're family now, Philip; please refer to them by their first names."

"All right," sighed Lombard. "Are you going to apologize to _Fred_ when he gets here?"

"Need anything, sir?" asked the boatman.

"No, why do you ask?" asked Lombard.

"Well, you just said 'Fred' and I assumed you were talking to me," replied the boatman.

"No," said Lombard, realizing he never had taken the opportunity to get to know the boatman a bit better. "I was talking about my future father-in-law."

"Oh," said Fred. "Same name, then." He shrugged and looked out to sea.

"I think that's them now," said Carolina, straining to see the upcoming taxi cab up ahead.

"Here we go," muttered Lombard. "Showtime."

* * *

About five minutes later, Lombard found himself seated in between his mother and his future father-in-law while his future mother-in-law sat up front with the solemn, thin-haired minister.

"My, it's a bit cold out, isn't it?" said Lombard, trying to start up a conversation.

"Indeed it is," spoke up Mrs. Claythorne.

Ignoring the wind whipping his cheeks, Lombard smiled and said, "So, ah..._Fred_..." He looked over to Mr. Claythorne and said, "As in, my future in-law..."

Mr. Claythorne turned in Lombard's direction. Lombard's smile became a nervous one. "Looking forward to this?"

"Indeed I am," replied Mr. Claythorne, his expression not once changing.

"At least the baby will be born in wedlock," said Lombard.

"Baby?" asked the minister, turning around.

Mr. Claythorne turned red (from shame or anger, Lombard was not sure of) and said, "My daughter's pregnant by this man here."

"I see," said the minister stiffly. He looked back out to sea, while Lombard said apologetically, "I'm sorry; I thought he knew."

"So you thought my daughter being pregnant out of wedlock was something I would be _proud_ of?" snapped Mr. Claythorne.

Mrs. Claythorne put one hand on her husband's shoulder and gave him a sharp Look.

Mr. Claythorne cleared his throat and said, "Sorry. This is just...hard for me to deal with. I hope you understand."

"Of course I do, sir," said Lombard in a neutral tone, looking straight ahead.

"Fred," said Carolina, "I would just like to apologize for hitting you that night." _Even though you deserved it,_ she mentally added.

"Apology accepted," said Mr. Claythorne stiffly. "Just don't make a habit out of it."

"I assure you I won't," said Carolina. "We must set an example for this baby, after all."

* * *

"You'll be just _fine,_ Vera," said Evelyn, trying to get her panicking sister to calm down in her bedroom. "You're just _nervous,_ that's all."

Dressed in the same dress she had worn on her first night on Indian Island, Vera wailed, "But this is a _mistake!_ Why do we _have_ to get married at all?!?"

"Vera, _calm down_," said Evelyn firmly, taking Vera by the shoulders and gently placing her down on the bed. "This stress is no good for you or the baby. Just take some deep, slow breaths."

Vera closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths that were a bit fast at first, but gradually slowed down until she felt completely relaxed and fluttered her eyes open.

"Better?" asked Evelyn.

"Much," said Vera. She sighed, "I wish I weren't so nervous. I really do want to marry Philip." She smiled. "To think, I thought the man I'd be marrying would be Hugo. Well, I suppose that's life; it seldom goes as planned and offers pleasant surprises."

"Indeed," nodded Evelyn. She got up and walked across the room to look out the window. "The boat is in sight."

"What?" Vera sat straight up and started panicking all over again: "Oh no! Philip's coming and—and it's not _time_ yet! I should stay! But no, I'd—I'd just want—want—want to see him again and—and—and—"

"_Breathe,"_ instructed Evelyn.

Vera resumed her deep breathing. It just seemed as though the wedding was never going to begin.

* * *

When it was just five minutes to nine, Mr. Claythorne sat down next to Carolina in the parlour with the minister standing up straight and silent near the windows with Philip standing in front, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

"Oh, _relax_, Philip, the ceremony doesn't start for another five minutes," said Carolina with a wave of her hand.

"You're telling _me,"_ said Lombard, whose eyes kept darting over to the hall. "_You've_ never been married. What if this was a mistake? What if Vera changes her mind about getting married? What if she just stays in her room all night as she has been doing for the past three hours? What if she and Evelyn weren't having early supper after all before we came? What if they were plotting the best escape route?"

Seeing Lombard anxious like this helped relax Mr. Claythorne and assured him everything would be just fine.

Just then, Mrs. Claythorne came running into the parlour. "Fred," she panted, "Vera's waiting for you at the top of the stairs."

Mr. Claythorne got up and allowed his wife to take his seat. He walked down the hall, up the stairs, and met his two daughters at the top, one of whom he'd be giving away. "Your mother said you're waiting for me."

"Yes, I have been," said Vera, nodding her head quickly. She took her arm in his. "Well," she said, "I'm ready."

Mr. Claythorne smiled and nodded as he led her down the stairs, Evelyn following behind, wearing a long-sleeved dress the colour of grapes on a vineyard.

Vera's heart was hammering as she tried to concentrate on each step before her, trying to be careful not to trip and fall. This was it. She was _finally_ about to be married. After all that had happened during the past few months—meeting to Philip, coming to Indian Island, being rescued, being reunited, falling in love, getting engaged, giving her virginity and becoming pregnant with her first child in the process—she and Philip were finally going to get married.

Her stomach tightened as the gramophone from downstairs blared the wedding march. She had never imagined her wedding to anything like _this._ She had imagined it to take place in a large church with all her family in attendance, wearing a long, fancy dress the colour of snow, her groom Hugo Hamilton.

Instead, she was getting married on Indian Island with only her parents and sister in attendance, wearing a dress that she had chosen simply for the purpose of giving her supposed employer the right impression, her groom Philip Lombard.

They had now reached the bottom of the stairs. Vera could feel her stomach begin to twist, but she held her head high and kept on marching down the hall and into the parlour, where Philip Lombard stood wearing the same suit he had worn on the evening of August the eighth, 1939. He flashed his wolf-like grin, a grin that assured Vera this would be the best choice of her life.

At last, she had reached the minister standing at the window with Lombard. Her father smiled and said, "Good luck, darling." Then, although it was difficult, he let go of her and sat down next to his wife, who was wiping her face with a handkerchief watching her baby get married.

The minister opened his lips and any sign that proved he had emotion came with his words: "Dearly beloved, we are gathered this evening to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."

Neither Lombard nor Vera paid much attention to what he was saying. They just kept thinking, _This is it, this is our big day, the day that will start the rest of our lives..._

* * *

At last, the minister got to the vows: "Do you, Philip Lombard, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish from this day forward until death do you part?"

Lombard spoke the two words he had been longing to say ever since he had first bought the ring: "I do."

The minister turned to Vera. "And do you, Vera Elizabeth Claythorne, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish from this day forward until death do you part?"

Vera thought she would have to make a mad dash for the bathroom, but she was able to keep her stomach's contents down as she said the two words that were so simple yet so huge: "I do."

"Now Philip Lombard, take your right hand into Vera's."

Lombard slowly turned to face Vera and obeyed, his breath quickening.

"Now repeat after me," said the minister, clearing his throat. "I, Philip Lombard..."

"I, Philip Lombard," repeated Lombard.

"Promise to take Vera Elizabeth Claythorne..."

"Promise to take Vera Elizabeth Claythorne..."

"To have and to hold..."

"To have and to hold..."

"From this day forward..."

"From this day forward..."

"For better or for worse..."

"For better or for worse..."

"For richer for poorer..."

"For richer for poorer..."

"In sickness and in health..."

"In sickness and in health..."

"To love and cherish from this day forward..."

"To love and cherish from this day forward..."

"Until death do us part."

"Until death do us part."

Lombard held back a smile at the dramatic irony of such a line, given the circumstances he and Vera had faced on this island around six months ago.

It was now Vera's turn to take Lombard's right hand and say these vows. While her lips moved, repeating each word after the minister's, she thought about what to say if her child should ever ask about its parents' wedding one day. Because then, she would also have to explain that mummy was expecting her long before...

_There I go again!_ Vera realized. The nagging feeling that the baby would ultimately be a girl had not left her mind since she had visited her parents. She didn't know if the feeling came from a _desire_ for it to be a girl, or from some sort of newly-found maternal instincts.

After finishing her vows, Vera (as instructed) gave the ring to the minister, who then gave the ring to Lombard.

"Repeat after me," said the minister again. "With this ring, I thee wed in the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Lombard carefully repeated the words and slipped the ring onto Vera's left forefinger.

"I hereby pronounce this couple husband and wife," declared the minister. "You may now kiss the bride."

Grinning, Lombard wrapped his hands around Vera's waist, pulled her in closer, and gave her one of the most passionate kisses they had ever shared.

* * *

Everyone spent the rest of the ceremony in the dining room, having dinner and conversing.

"I have to say, Mr. Claythorne, in spite of your daughter being pregnant out of wedlock before the ceremony, she and her husband aren't quite as young as I imagined," confided the minister. "They're usually no older than seventeen."

Mr. Claythorne only smiled and nodded, still adjusting to the idea of his younger daughter being married and already having a baby.

"Congratulations, Carolina," said Mrs. Claythorne, her voice full of emotion. "You must be so _happy._"

"And I _am,_" sobbed Carolina.

"This is so _wonderful,_" sobbed Evelyn. "My baby sister is _married!_ And going to be a _mother!_"

Lombard only shrugged and thought, _Women! _He turned to Vera and said, "So, Mrs. Lombard, how would you like to stand up and propose a toast?"

Vera smiled. She could get used to being called that. "I'd be more than glad to, Mr. Lombard," she replied. She lightly tapped her glass with a spoon and called out, "May I have your attention please, everyone?"

Everyone stopped talking long enough to look at Vera, who held up her glass and announced, "I would like to propose a toast: If anyone had told me five years ago that I would fall in love again with a man whom I would meet during the most traumatic event of my life, I would have laughed in their face. I imagined my wedding to be under entirely different circumstances in a different location...and with a different man.

"But I have learned that that's the best part of life: Things seldom go according to plan. Things happen, people change for the better or for the worse, but ultimately, many of these changes are for the better." Her smile grew wider. "I have never been so happy in my life as I am this night. So," she raised the glass high, "to the future. May it bring many great things to come!" Here, she rested one hand on her stomach.

"To the future!" echoed everyone, clinking their glasses.

* * *

When at last, it was ten-thirty, everyone decided to clean up and go to bed. The minister went off to sleep in (ironically enough) the judge's bedroom, Evelyn went to Emily Brent's room, Carolina went to Anthony Marston's room, and Vera's parents were standing just outside the General's bedroom, saying goodnight to the bride and groom.

"Good night, darling," said Mrs. Claythorne, kissing her daughter on the cheek.

"Good night mother," said Vera, hugging her mother tightly before turning to her father. "Well...good night, father," she said, giving him a hug.

Mr. Claythorne hugged Vera back and said, "Good night, Vera." He turned to Lombard. "You and Vera are married now, so I'm not going to object to whatever shenanigans the two of you get up to tonight, but if you ever do anything to hurt her..."

"_Fred..."_

He shook Lombard's hand. "Congratulations," he managed to say. "I'm sure you'll be a great son-in-law in spite of everything we've been through. And, er...sorry about what I said...earlier..."

"It's all right, sir," said Lombard with a wave of his hand. "All is forgiven. We're family now. And families forgive each other. At least, that's what I'd _assume,_ since I never really had a family until now..."

He cleared his throat and said, "Well...good night Fred. And Clara."

"Good night, Philip," said Mrs. Claythorne, going in.

"Yes," said Mr. Claythorne. "Good night...Philip." And with that, he closed the door.

Lombard and Vera stood in the empty hallway before Lombard said, "So...shall we consummate our marriage in my room? That way, we can make up for our sinful behaviour the last time we were here."

They had talked to the doctor about it, and he assured them both that as long as they were careful, any lovemaking sessions between the two of them would not harm the baby, and it certainley would have no memory of it.

Vera grinned. "I'd be delighted to."

* * *

Five minutes later, the married couple lay in bed naked next to each other, their clothing and undergarments on the floor (one or two in bed), the blankets hiding them from the peaking moon. They had just finished making love for the first time as husband and wife, which had been every bit as beautiful as (perhaps, as they suspected, better than) their very first time as fiancées.

"God, that was _good,_" sighed Vera. "No, not good..._amazing. Wonderful._ Just...wow." She laughed softly. "I can't really _describe_ it, but..."

"I know exactly what you mean," said Lombard, his hands lightly caressing Vera's bare skin. He laughed, "You know, it's funny. I suppose that in the end, Wargrave's mad little rhyme was indeed fulfilled after all."

"Really?" said Vera. "How so?"

"Well, first of all, there is that rhyme about how one got frizzled up," said Lombard. "And the judge himself did indeed get frizzled up—by you."

Vera's eyes turned shy before saying, "And what about the last rhyme?"

"You do know how the other version goes, don't you?" said Lombard.

"How?" asked Vera.

"One little Indian boy left all alone, he got married and then there were none," whispered Lombard, stroking Vera's hair.

"You mean and then there were _three,_" whispered Vera, placing both Lombard's hands on her stomach.

Lombard smiled. "Right. And then there were three."

* * *

**A/N: Phew! I thought I'd never get this chapter done, lol! But I wasn't satisfied with a simple ceremony; I still wanted to show the emotions and build-up leading up to the wedding!**

**Any-hoo, in case you're wondering, the story is not over yet; we still have a few loose ends to tie up. Namely, the eventual arrival of that baby everyone keeps making a huge deal out of!**


	44. A Confession

44

**A Confession**

After the wedding, Lombard and Vera returned to their house, where they planned on staying for the time being (they decided on making the guest room the baby's room once they got around to decorating and furnishing). The idea that they were married now was slowly beginning to sink in; now, they were debating when to tell everyone they were expecting a baby. Lombard suggested waiting until she began to show before telling people; then they could just say she got pregnant on the honeymoon, and perhaps tell only a few people the truth. This was an idea Vera agreed to, though reluctantly; she was almost sure the neighbours would eventually figure out the baby had been conceived long before its parents' wedding night, and she certainly did not want to shame her father after making up with him just recently.

Almost one month after the wedding, Vera decided to go into town to shop for groceries. It was when she got dressed that she realized something was not normal: Her skirt would not go up. She frowned and tried to pull it up just a few inches more...

No such luck.

Suspicious, Vera put one hand on her stomach—and realized it was now a very tiny bump. It was not noticeable with loose clothing on, but without it, it was quite obvious that there was a person-to-be growing inside her.

Vera shivered from the reality of the bump. It meant she really was going to have a baby. She called out, "Philip!"

About five seconds later, Lombard, who had just finished his breakfast, came into their bedroom and said, "Yes, darling?"

Vera took one of his hands and put it on her stomach. "It's growing, Philip," she whispered. "I'm beginning to show. Do you think...it's time?"

"Perhaps," said Lombard slowly. "I myself think we should wait just a few more weeks when you're a bit bigger than this." He rubbed her stomach. "My, you _are_ growing, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am," sighed Vera.

Lombard decided not to let Vera know he was talking to the baby.

* * *

Vera put off going shopping for the groceries that day and instead went shopping two weeks later, which was when she and Lombard agreed on telling more people as they went out in public. The bump was growing, though not by much; it was still unnoticeable under certain clothing.

"Why, hello there, Mrs. Lombard!" called out Mrs. Ashcroft, an elderly old woman who lived just down the street from Evelyn. She and Vera were not close friends, but the two women would occasionally talk to each other about various things in their lives whenever passing down the street. She had been told a few weeks ago that Vera was married now, but had yet to know about the baby.

Vera, who was busy packing up her paid-for groceries just outside the store, said, "Hello, Mrs. Ashcroft." She smiled. "It'll take me a while to fully adjust to being called Mrs. Lombard. Just like how it'll take me a while to fully adjust to being called 'mummy'."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" asked Mrs. Ashcroft suspiciously.

Vera said, "Oh, Mrs. Ashcroft, I'm pregnant!"

The look on Mrs. Ashcroft's face quickly made Vera feel self-conscious. So now she knew that sweet, innocent Vera had been getting up to very naughty mischief.

Vera quickly added, "It's from our honeymoon. Philip and I found out just a few weeks ago."

Mrs. Ashcroft's stunned look turned into a warm and endearing smile. "Congratulations, dear," she said. "You must be really excited, what with this being your first baby and all."

"I am," smiled Vera.

"Here, let me carry those for you," said Mrs. Ashcroft, taking both of Vera's shopping bags.

"Oh no, you really shouldn't," said Vera quickly.

"Oh but I _must,_" insisted Mrs. Ashcroft. "All that heavy lifting is no good for the baby!"

Vera sighed, knowing that she'd be unable to talk Mrs. Ashcroft out of it. Once she made up her mind about something, there was simply no way to get her out of it.

It was during the two women's walk through the parking lot that they came across another elderly woman who sometimes came over to look after Derek for a few minutes: Mrs. Hatcher.

"Why, Ellen, whatever are you doing?" asked Mrs. Hatcher, walking up to the two women. "Mrs. Lombard is perfectly capable of carrying those by herself!"

"Well, yes and no," said Mrs. Ashcroft. "You see, Mrs. Lombard is..." She hesitated, as though embarrassed to use the word 'pregnant', "...she's in a rather..._delicate_ condition."

"Ah," nodded Mrs. Hatcher. "Well, say no more. Just let me take the other bag."

* * *

With each passing day, the bump on Vera's stomach would grow just an inch bigger though not big enough to be noticed under loose clothing. And with each passing day, Vera's morning sickness slowly began to subside. By her fourth month, she only got nauseous but was usually able to hold it down.

And by her twenty-sixth birthday on the fifteenth of March, she was feeling good enough to go over to Evelyn's house to have the much-desired chocolate cake with her family by her side.

"_Thank_ you, Evelyn," said Vera as she sat at the dining table in Evelyn's house, scarfing down the chocolate cake that sat before her.

"Oh, I just had the feeling you'd want some chocolate cake, that's all," said Evelyn modestly, giving Derek his piece.

"Happy birthday, darling," said Mrs. Claythorne, giving Vera a kiss on the cheek. "I take it, then, that you're just about past the morning sickness?"

"Almost," said Vera after swallowing. "I'm not vomiting anymore, thank God. I feel just a _bit_ nauseous when I wake up in the morning, but it usually doesn't last very long. And," she took this time to have another piece and chew it up and swallow it, "I only get nauseous during the day if the smells overwhelm me."

"They don't right now, do they?" asked Evelyn. "Derek, no, no; you're supposed to use your _fork._"

"Oh, let him eat it with his hands if he wants to," said Mr. Claythorne. "He'll use the proper utensils when he's in the mood."

"No, the smells are pretty good, actually," said Vera.

Lombard treated himself to a piece of cake and said, "You've got some chocolate around your lips, darling. Over there...no, to the left...not _your_ left, _my_ left...here, let me try."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," said Mr. Claythorne, getting up and walking over to the door. While he did so, Lombard gently wiped the chocolate off of Vera's face and kissed the spots where the chocolate used to be.

"Oh good, you came," said Mr. Claythorne's voice. "We thought you'd _never _come."

A voice that made Vera freeze in her seat spoke: "Well I'm afraid my estimations about how long the cab would take were a bit off, but I'm here now, and that's all that matters."

Vera slowly turned her head towards the source of the voice. As she did, Mr. Claythorne came into the dining room with the last person in the world Vera wanted to see.

"Mrs. Hamilton," was all Vera could say.

Mrs. Hamilton grinned, her cheeks rosy from the cold outside. She had lost a bit of weight since Vera had last seen her, once having a stout appearance. "Hello, Miss Claythorne," she said. "Or should I say, Mrs. Lombard?"

Vera's eyes darted over to her father, then to Evelyn, to her mother, and finally to Philip, all of whom had a guilty look on their faces.

"It was my idea," spoke up Mrs. Claythorne. "I thought about Mrs. Hamilton here a few weeks ago and thought about how lonely she must be with Hugo up in Scotland, so we all got together and contacted her to invite her over for your birthday. Philip wanted it to be a surprise."

Vera was torn between getting up and leaving, and strangling her family for tricking her like this.

"Say something," urged Mrs. Hamilton, still smiling.

Vera managed to force a smile and said, "Hello, Mrs. Hamilton. It's been five years."

"Indeed it has," said Mrs. Hamilton, taking off her coat and hanging it up on the coat rack. She came into the dining room and took a vacant chair right next to Vera. "I'm afraid the last time we met was not under the cheeriest circumstances. Fortunately, it looks as though everything's going to be just splendid!"

"Oh yes, I think it will!" said Lombard.

Vera shot daggers in her eyes at her husband before turning to Mr. Hamilton and saying, "So...how have you been since..."

"Oh, I'm getting better, day by day," sighed Mrs. Hamilton. "I'm sad that I no longer have a little boy to come home to, but life goes on. No use living in the past, that's what I always say."

Vera pushed the pieces of cake on her plate around with her fork, remembering what Hugo had said: _She acted perfectly calm during the day, as though nothing was bothering her, but it was at night that the tears started flowing. _This was awkward...

"How have _you_ been doing, dear?" said Mrs. Hamilton gently.

"Better," replied Vera slowly. "After...what happened...I'd try to get a holiday post as a secretary every summer, but it was to no avail. It was about two years ago I started teaching at St. Agatha's."

"What do you teach?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.

"I'm a games mistress," replied Vera, finding talking to Mrs. Hamilton to be a bit easier. "I'm taking this year off since what I went through left me a bit shaken."

"Understandable, dear, _perfectly_ understandable," said Mrs. Hamilton empathetically.

"But," said Vera, "I'll be taking the next year off, too. At least, till this time next year, if I can."

"Oh?" said Mrs. Hamilton. "Why?"

Vera blushed slightly and placed both hands on her stomach before saying, "Because I'll be very busy with another person in my life by then."

Mrs. Hamilton saw where Vera was placing her hands and gave out a small excited cry. "A baby?" she whispered. "You're going to have a baby?"

Vera nodded, the same self-conscious feeling from when she had told Mrs. Ashcroft returning.

Mrs. Hamilton smiled and said, "Congratulations, dear. You and Mr. Lombard both must be thrilled."

"Oh, we are," said Lombard. _Or at least, I'm trying to be._

"How far along are you?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.

Vera fell silent. She looked over to Lombard, who shrugged to indicate he did not care; then over to her father who was mouthing the words, "Three months."

Deciding Mrs. Hamilton could be trusted, Vera boldly stated, "About four months."

Mr. Claythorne groaned and put his head in his hands. He had told Mrs. Hamilton that Lombard and Vera had been married for three months now. And since Vera had said she was _four_ months along...

"Oh," said Mrs. Hamilton. "So, the baby was conceived _before_ the wedding?"

Vera bit her lip and nodded.

Lombard felt the need to add, "We just couldn't control ourselves!"

"Philip!" hissed both Vera and her father.

"It's all right," assured Mrs. Hamilton. "As far as the neighbours are concerned, Vera here is _three_ months along. And there's no need to be ashamed about it, Vera; it's a bit embarrassing to let people know what you and your loved one have been getting up to behind closed doors after retiring from the daily activities, but there is absolutely no shame in motherhood."

Not even this assurance could ease the awkwardness felt in the air, which was steadily growing.

"Did you just call me Vera?" asked Vera.

"Why, of course I did," said Mrs. Hamilton. "It's your name isn't it? And you're no longer under my employment, so there's no need for the formality. Who knows—maybe someday when you and Philip are busy, I'll be under your child's employment! It would be fitting in a way; you took care of my child, I take care of yours."

_Awkward._

Fortunately, the awkwardness eased up after that, and the rest of the party was spent chatting about miscellaneous things, such as the economy putting itself back together.

However, Vera resolved to get something done before Mrs. Hamilton left...

* * *

"Bye, everyone!" called out Evelyn, standing in the doorway.

"Goodbye!" called out the departing guests.

"And goodbye to you, Vera," said Mrs. Hamilton with a smile on her face. The cab picking her up would be coming in just a few minutes. "I'm sure we'll meet again someday."

Vera looked behind her. Her parents were in the car. Evelyn was in the house. Only Philip stood there, with a look on his face that told Vera to do what had to get done.

"Mrs. Hamilton," said Vera slowly, "there's something I need to talk to you about in private."

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Hamilton.

Vera took Mrs. Hamilton by the arm and a bit further out onto Evelyn's yard, where they'd be out of earshot. "It's about Cyril's drowning," Vera began.

"Oh there's no need to apologize, dear," said Mrs. Hamilton with a wave of her hand. "It was a long time ago; I'm over it now. And what happened was an _accident,_ Vera; I don't blame you for it _at all._ Cyril was a bit impatient; it could've happened to _anyone._"

Vera could feel her knees shake, but she told herself to stay put and get it over with. "Mrs. Hamilton," she said, "just...listen to me, okay? First of all, I just want to let you know that when I was Cyril's governess, I was _madly_ blinded by my love for your brother. I would've done _anything_ for him. If he had told me to go jump off a cliff, I would've gladly done it without any second thought. I didn't see what was right or wrong; in fact, as far as I was concerned, there was no such thing as right and wrong. There was just love. And...I believed that love could justify _anything,_ no matter how evil..."

"Just get on with it," urged Mrs. Hamilton. "What is it you're trying to say, dear?"

Vera's eyes met the ground. Suddenly, the words just couldn't come out. She drew in a few deep breaths to gain composure of herself.

"Vera?" asked Mrs. Hamilton, concerned.

"I killed Cyril," blurted out Vera, her eyes quickly looking back up to Mrs. Hamilton's face. If she had to _force_ the words to come out, so be it. "What happened...was not an accident. It did not happen because I got 'distracted'. I knew that once Cyril died, Hugo would inherit his fortune and be able to marry me, so...so when Cyril asked if he could swim out to the rock...I said yes. And not once did I ever try to stop him. And I never even swam out until...until I knew Cyril would drown long before I got there."

What followed afterwards was the cold silence of the March air. Mrs. Hamilton had an inexpressible look on her face. Vera looked straight into Mrs. Hamilton's eyes to let her know she was telling the truth.

When Mrs. Hamilton said nothing after about ten seconds, Vera softly said, "I'm sorry." She turned around and marched up to Philip, not once looking back. The two silently got into their car and drove off, Vera wondering if she did the right thing the whole ride through.


	45. Midnight Cravings

45

**Midnight Cravings**

"My God, what have I done?" muttered Vera as she lay down on her and Lombard's bed when they got home, her face buried in her hands. "What if she turns me over to the police? What if—what if she told _Evelyn?"_

"I don't think she will," said Lombard, lying next to Vera. "I think she still needs time to accept what you've told her."

"And when she does?" asked Vera.

"I don't know her as well as you do, so you tell me," was Lombard's reply.

Vera put her hands down at her side. "Maybe she'll forgive me," she said. "If I'm that lucky at all." She sat up and said, "It's complicated. I really do regret doing what I did, but...I can't honestly say that I'd take it all back if I could, because if I hadn't done it, I would've never gone to Indian Island, and I would've never met you, and I wouldn't be _here_—married to the man I love and pregnant. Perhaps I would've been here with _Hugo_ if I had been a bit more patient."

Lombard sat up and put his hand in Vera's. "I think you just wish we could've met under _different_ circumstances."

Vera nodded. "I suppose," she said softly. "Perhaps not drown Cyril, perhaps just get impatient and break it off with Hugo and meet you a few years later."

She suddenly felt a soft flutter in her stomach, causing her to cry out.

"What is it?" asked Lombard.

"It's the baby, Philip," whispered Vera. "It's _moving._ I just _know_ I'm feeling it. Here." She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. By this time, however, the baby had now relaxed.

"Oh," sighed Vera, disappointed. "Never mind." She took his hand away. "It was only for a brief moment or two. I think she was just saying 'hello'."

Lombard raised an eyebrow. "She?" he said. "How do you know for certain we're going to have a daughter?"

"Well," said Vera slowly, "it's hard to explain, but...I just have this _feeling_ it's going to be a girl."

"Oh, that maternal instinct women supposedly have?" asked Lombard.

"I suppose," said Vera thoughtfully. She shook her head. "But let's not shop for anything pink just yet."

"Not that I'd _know_ what to buy," chuckled Lombard.

* * *

As the weeks went by, Vera reluctantly accepted that almost none of her regular clothes fit her anymore and began to adjust to maternity wear, provided by Evelyn, who tried to buy the nicest-looking dresses to accommodate the vanishing snow and blossoming flowers. A few people were beginning to get suspicious that Vera was a bit further along than she claimed, but such suspicions didn't last long.

It was two days after Evelyn's birthday (which had been on the fourteenth of April) that Vera woke Lombard up from a peaceful sleep at around eleven o'clock at night for something very important.

"Mmph, what?" asked Lombard, slowly waking up.

"Philip, if you truly love me, you will fix me up a banana-and-pickle sandwich," said Vera sincerely.

"_What?"_ asked Lombard, sitting up. "Surely you must be joking!"

"So pregnancy is just one big _joke_ to you, is that it?" snapped Vera.

"No, no, of course not!" said Lombard quickly. "I'm just saying that's a rather..._unusual_ combination."

"So you think _I'm_ unusual?" said Vera in a voice that suggested she was about to cry.

_Touchy tonight, aren't we?_ thought Lombard. "No, I'm sorry," he said out loud. "Wait right here. I'll go make that sandwich for you."

"Be quick," snapped Vera as Lombard made his way out of bed, out of the room, and down the hall to the kitchen.

Lombard proceeded to pull out the following items and put them on the counter: Bread...a banana...pickles...

_Pickles._

Oh dear.

Lombard called out, "Vera? Would it be all right if I just served you a banana sandwich?"

"No, I want _PICKLES!" _shrieked Vera.

Lombard winced, wondering if Morley had ever gone through this with Jennifer.

_Morley._

Thinking quickly, Lombard dashed to the phone, picked it up, and dialled Morley's number, the entire time praying, _Please have pickles, please have pickles, please have pickles..._

"Hello?"

It was Morley, sounding a bit rushed.

"Thank _God_ you're there, Morley," sighed Lombard. "We're out of pickles and Vera's craving a banana-and-pickle sandwich."

"Say no more," said Morley promptly. "In exchange, there is something I would like you to do for me, as long as it isn't imposing in any manner."

"Anything, Morley, name it," said Lombard anxiously.

"Jennifer has gone into labour," explained Morley. "The contractions are far apart right now, but they're beginning to get slightly shorter, so we're going to leave for the hospital in a few minutes. In the mean time, we need someone to look after Chester for the night and since you called..."

Lombard hesitated. He now had a chance to get to know Chester for at least a couple hours. On the other hand, it might be a bit awkward having to explain to him that he was going to be a big brother mere months after the soon-to-be birth of his first younger sibling...

"Philip, what's taking you so long?" yelled Vera from the bedroom.

"Just one moment, darling!" called out Lombard before saying to Morley over the phone, "Yes, and you drop him off at..."

* * *

About fifteen minutes of feeding Vera an apple with margarine as an 'appetizer' as she put it, Lombard was relieved to hear a knock on the door. He bolted for the door and opened it to see Morley standing with a boy looking to be around six going on seven, with Jennifer's chestnut blonde hair and hazel eyes, resembling his father in smile only: His son.

"Sorry to be imposing on you like this," apologized Morley.

"It's nothing at all, Morley," said Lombard with a wave of the hand. "Just give me the damn pickles and it won't be imposing in the slightest!"

Morley handed Lombard the jar of pickles before turning to Chester and saying, "Now, Chester, you will be Mr. Lombard's guest for the night, so be polite."

"I will, daddy," said Chester dutifully.

_Daddy..._

Morley gave Chester a hug before saying, "Good night. See you in the morning, maybe."

Chester walked in through the door, Lombard closing the door behind him. "So...we have a guest room just down the hall," said Lombard cheerfully. "Want me to show you where it is?"

"No," said Chester. "I think I can find it on my own, thanks."

Ignoring the slight sting, Lombard said, "Well, my wife wants a sandwich, and I'm going to make it right now, so...once I'm done, if you need anything, just...call."

Chester solemnly nodded and walked down the hall, figuring out which room was his guest room.

Lombard swallowed the lump in his throat and began to prepare Vera's sandwich, now that he had all of the requested ingredients. He tried not to take Chester's distance as genuine rejection; perhaps he was just homesick and the less said while here, the better. Even so, he began to wonder if Chester would even _want_ to visit him after this. After all, he had never requested to see Lombard before; why continue to do so now?

Was Chester happy with his new family? Was he so happy he completely forgot about the man who was partially responsible for his existence?

Lombard had now finished preparing the sandwich and began to walk down the hall and to his and Vera's room, wondering if this was Chester's reaction to his biological grandmother. Had he been distant with her, too? Had he eventually grown warm and accepting?

Lombard pushed the door open and announced, "Here you go, Vera—one banana-and-pickle sandwich!"

"Oh, _thank_ you!" sighed Vera.

Lombard sat on the bed and gave Vera the disgusting mixture. She hungrily bit down through the slices of bread, the sweet banana, the sour pickle, and let out a satisfied, "Mm-hmm!"

Lombard suppressed the urge to gag. He had heard of women having bizarre cravings during pregnancy, but Vera's surely outdid the rest.

* * *

Lombard woke up the next morning to two hands gently pushing him. He thought it was Vera waking him up until he heard a small voice go, "Mr. Lombard?"

Lombard slowly opened his eyes to see Chester standing right by his bed. "Yes?" he asked, trying to hide his secret hope that perhaps the two had some sort of bond, even if it couldn't be a father/son one.

"The baby's here," said Chester. "Daddy called a few minutes ago."

"Really?" asked Lombard, slowly sitting up.

"Yes, really," said Chester, nodding eagerly. "It's a girl and her name is Karen Amanda. Daddy said Karen means 'pure' and Amanda means 'much loved', so he and mummy thought it fit."

"Oh," said Lombard. "So, when's your daddy coming?"

It felt a bit odd, to use the term 'your daddy', but Lombard knew he couldn't live under some sort of delusion that he could ever be a father-figure to Chester now that his mother was married to another man.

"He said in about half an hour," said Chester. "Mrs. Lombard made me some breakfast. She's awful nice, and she's really big, too! Is she having a baby?"

"Er, yes," said Lombard awkwardly. "She is."

"Oh, jolly!" said Chester cheerfully. "That must be real nice!"

Lombard smiled. He had a feeling Chester was too young to fully understand the situation, and was not going to explain it, either.

"Yes, Chester," he said. "It really is."

And he meant it.


	46. Redeemed But Not Forgiven

46

**Redeemed But Not Forgiven**

April showers eventually blossomed into the sunny days of June, just when Vera was beginning to enter her third and final trimester, to the excitement and anxiety of Lombard, who, with the help of Evelyn, had planned a surprise baby shower. At the moment, Mrs. Claythorne was taking Vera out for a little tour around town to keep her busy.

"Is everything set?" asked Evelyn, who tied the last balloon to one of the dining chairs.

"I think so," said Lombard, placing all the gifts in a neat and tidy pile, trying to ignore the reality behind these gifts.

"They should be back in about five minutes," said Fleta, who had come all the way from France to celebrate this occasion.

While they waited for Vera to come back, Lombard and Mr. Claythorne stood next to each other. Lombard cleared his throat. "So, ah, Fred. How's everything going?"

"Fine, just fine," said Mr. Claythorne awkwardly. "I've found a job working in the post office, but it's only temporary for the time being. I think I just might follow through with my dream to open up my own newspaper business after all. Until then, I'll stick with the job I've got." Then, "You know, I might need some help finding a good building to run my dream newspaper in. It needs to be close by for me, yet convenient for my family to drop in and visit. Do you think you could help?"

"When I'm not busy with the baby, yes," said Lombard, feeling a bit uneasy by that statement.

"Of course, of course," said Mr. Claythorne quickly.

"Guys!" hissed Fleta, who had been peeking through a window. "They're coming! Get ready!"

The four of them then got into position, standing together, waiting for the door to be opened.

Then, the door slowly opened...

"Surprise!" cried everyone as Vera walked right in through the front door, dressed in a swan-white maternity dress, her hair pulled back in a braid.

"Well, what do you think, honey?" asked Mrs. Claythorne, who came right in behind her.

Vera took one look around her brightly decorated living room and kitchen and dining room. She saw the gifts for the baby piled up nearby.

The gifts for _her_ baby.

"I..." Vera gulped, tears forming in her eyes. "Thank you."

* * *

Vera shed tears of joy throughout the shower. She recalled her fantasy of being surrounded by family, opening up her gifts and remarking how wonderful they were, and her mother looking back on how she fit into such tiny clothing once upon a time. She had only dreamed of it happening three or four years into her marriage with Philip...never _now._

Within thirty minutes of the shower, a few more guests had arrived, many of them neighbours, some even former students of Vera's who all wanted to touch her belly and begged to ask when she would be coming back, to which Vera would give them a guilty look and say she wasn't sure when.

Within an hour, two guests arrived that only Lombard had expected.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" begged one of the little girls.

"We don't know," said Vera. "We will find out when it is born."

"And when is it going to be born?" begged another.

Vera looked up at her mother, who gave her an understanding look, before turning back and saying, "Sometime later this summer, perhaps even early fall."

Vera was surprised to see how many of her girls had missed her while she was away, causing her to feel guilty about taking the year off. She knew she had needed it to recover, but she couldn't help but feel angry at herself for being too vain and selfish during her recovery from Hugo to realize how much people truly liked her.

"Vera?" called out Lombard, coming into the living room. "We have two more guests."

Vera looked up...and saw the two people she had least expected to see.

"Hugo," she said, getting up. "Mrs. Hamilton."

"Mr. Lombard here invited us," said Hugo. "He thought you needed us here."

Vera avoided making eye contact with Mrs. Hamilton and Hugo. Mrs. Hamilton because she hadn't really talked to her about what she had done; Hugo because although she had resolved her issues with him, it was still a tad bit awkward to have him here, seeing her pregnant by another man.

"Who is she?" asked one girl.

"Now, Julie, show your manners," lectured Mrs. Ashcroft, who was Julie's grandmother.

"I," said Mrs. Hamilton stepping forward, suddenly smiling, "am Mrs. Hamilton. Mrs. Lombard used to look after my little boy. Are you all Mrs. Lombard's pupils?"

"Yes we are," chorused the girls.

Vera silently prayed, _Please don't ask what happened to the boy, please don't ask what happened to the boy..._

"Why isn't he taking care of your little boy anymore?" asked Julie's sister, Beth.

Mrs. Hamilton's eyes met Vera's as she spoke: "He died in a tragic accident."

"Awww," said the girls sympathetically.

Vera relaxed a bit. So Mrs. Hamilton wasn't going around telling people the truth. Was she forgiven?

Hugo stepped forward, a gift box with a ribbon in his hand. "Here are the gifts," he said, handing it over to Vera. "They're from the both of us."

"Thank you," said Vera uncomfortably. She gently took off the ribbon and opened it up...only to see a rattle, a teddy bear, a blue blanket, and a pacifier.

"They're Cyril's baby things," said Hugo. "We have more for when the baby's a bit older."

"Oh," said Vera, feeling that she shouldn't accept this. "I'm sorry, but I can't accept these. It wouldn't be right." She began to put them back in their box, but Hugo gently pushed them back into Vera's hand and said, "No, we _insist._"

Vera took one look in Hugo's eyes. She knew then that he would not let her give these back. She sighed and put them aside with her other gifts.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," said Vera to her guests. "I just need to talk with Hugo here."

"Who's Hugo?" asked Julie. "Was he your sweetheart?"

"Julie!" scolded Mrs. Ashcroft.

Vera smiled and took Hugo off into the guest room (which, slowly but surely, was becoming the baby's room). She closed the door behind them and said, "First of all, I know _we've_ said everything that needs to be said to one another, but...how did she react?"

"I don't really know," replied Hugo. "When I came back from Scotland for a few weeks to spend time with my sister, all she said was that you told her what really happened with Cyril. After that, she cheerfully changed the subject. Whenever I tried to talk to her about it, she'd talk about something else."

"She never asked why you didn't tell her?" said Vera, surprised. She had expected Mrs. Hamilton to be angry at _someone _about it, even if it wasn't her.

"No," said Hugo, shaking his head. "I think she understood why. I also think she was still accepting what you told her. For the past five years, she has lived under the impression that what happened was a tragic accident. She never liked to hold a grudge or blame anyone, so she thought it was simpler to just assume it was an accident. She just couldn't imagine why anyone, least of all you, would allow something like this to happen. So when she found out it was _not_ an accident, well...it just made things all the more complicated for her."

"Oh," said Vera, looking down.

"But you still did the right thing by telling her," Hugo quickly added. "She couldn't think it was an accident forever, and we both know she wouldn't have believed me. She needed to hear it from _you."_

There was an awkward silence for about a minute or two before Hugo said, "So you're pregnant."

"Huh? Oh, yes," said Vera, blushing, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, congratulations," said Hugo, smiling. "I only wish the best for you and this baby." Then, "Were you already pregnant when we last talked?"

Vera tried to stop blushing, but she couldn't help it. "Yes," she said. "But it was only mere days after...its conception." She let out a nervous laugh. "And I didn't know, and I wouldn't know until a few days before the end of the year. Philip and I were surprised."

"I should imagine," said Hugo.

Vera was only aware now that the baby was moving. Ever since her fifth month, the baby had been taking what felt like little swims inside its mother. This took Vera by surprise for quite some time, but she eventually got used to it. It became quite easy to ignore after that, but it was during moments of awkward silence that she was more aware than ever of its activity.

Especially now.

"Hugo," said Vera, dying to know something she had been wondering for quite some time, "what was your reaction when you heard about Indian Island on the radio, and how I survived?"

"Well," said Hugo, "my first thought was, 'thank God Vera survived'."

He looked as though he wanted to tell her something else, but before he could, there was a knock on the door. The door gently opened, revealing Mrs. Hamilton. "Excuse me," she said. "I would like to have a talk with Vera now. Alone."

Hugo turned to Vera and said, "Once again, I offer my congratulations and wish you and the baby good luck."

He ushered his sister into the room before leaving himself and closing the door behind him.

Vera felt downright uncomfortable. It had been easier to talk it out with Hugo, but to talk it out with Cyril's mother...

After a long moment of silence, Mrs. Hamilton spoke: "Mrs. Lombard. Are you familiar with Stevenson?"

Vera turned around. "Wayne Stevenson?" she asked.

"Yes," said Mrs. Hamilton, nodding. "That child murderer from about eleven or twelve years ago. That judge on the island...I think he was the one who oversaw the case."

"I recall it somewhat," said Vera slowly. "I don't recall the details of the murders in the paper, but I do remember being horrified that anyone could bring themselves to do such horrible things to innocent children who had barely lived their lives. Stevenson was a horrible, horrible man and I'm glad that judge, insane as he was, sentenced him to hang."

A faint smile twitched on Mrs. Hamilton's lips. "So," she said, "Cyril was not a child in your eyes, I take it? You thought he had fully lived his life?"

Vera felt as though stones were being thrown at her stomach. "No," she said, shaking her head. "That's not what I—"

"The parents of those children had to _suffer,_ Vera," said Mrs. Hamilton, her voice growing sharp. "They had to live with the fact that they would never again see the smiling, bright faces of their children, to see them grow up and guide them with life's challenges. Just like me. So how can you say Stevenson was horrible and you were a saint when in truth, what you did was no better than anything Stevenson had _ever_ done?"

Vera wanted only one thing in that moment: Forgiveness. Perhaps she wouldn't receive _total _forgiveness, but she longed for forgiveness of _some_ sort. "I can say nothing," was all she could say. "So what is it you want me to say?"

Mrs. Hamilton appeared to relax. "Nothing," she said. "Because no apology you give can ever bring back my Cyril. But I have had months to think it over, and...I don't hate you."

Vera suddenly felt hopeful. Was she being forgiven?

"I'm afraid I can never hold a grudge, dear," said Mrs. Hamilton. "I just can't find it in myself to hate anyone for anything, no matter how evil. After all, you were blinded by your love for Hugo. It happens to the best of us."

Vera smiled.

"But," said Mrs. Hamilton, "I can't forgive you."

That smile fell off Vera's face.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Hamilton went on, "but I just _can't._ What you did caused me _pain,_ Vera. I went through pain that was so bad, I wanted to die. But I carried on anyway because I refused to let my son's death tie me down for the rest of my life."

Desperate, Vera said, "But—but I really am sorry for what I did, Mrs. Hamilton. If I could do it over, I'd never let Cyril swim out, break up with Hugo naturally, and meet my husband under entirely different circumstances."

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" said Mrs. Hamilton angrily. "There is absolutely _nothing_ you can say or do to make things right. You should consider yourself lucky if I _ever _forgive you at all."

Vera flinched. She had always viewed Mrs. Hamilton as a gentle woman. She had _never_ thought she was capable of being so harsh.

"I know you think I'm being harsh now," said Mrs. Hamilton, her voice not quite as angry. "But when you hold that baby in your arms for the very first time, you will see where I am coming from."

And with that, she turned around and left Vera standing alone in the guest room. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry. She was _never_ going to be forgiven for her actions, _never._ She wanted so badly to be forgiven, to be assured that everything was all right...lord, if this was how Mrs. Hamilton reacted, then she would never, ever tell her own family...

"Vera?"

Vera looked up to see Lombard standing in the doorway. "Are you okay?"

Vera sat on the guest bed and continued to cry. Lombard sat next to her and said, "I'm sorry. But I had to invite them. It was the only way you'd ever feel truly all right."

"Mrs. Hamilton is never going to forgive me," said Vera softly.

Lombard sighed. He knew this was the part where he was supposed to say, "Don't be silly; of course she will." But he knew he had to be honest: "You're right. She may never, ever forgive you. She may hate you for the rest of her life. But you don't have to be forgiven by others for it to be all right."

"What do I need, then?" asked Vera, wiping some of the tears off her face.

"You just need to forgive _yourself_," replied Lombard.

Vera smiled—and gasped. "Philip," she whispered. "The baby's kicking."

She placed his hands on her stomach, hoping to get him feel the strong kick of the life-to-be.

She had now received her assurance that everything was all right and that this baby may very well be the best thing that had ever happened to her.


	47. Closing In

47

**Closing In**

Vera recovered from her ordeal within a few weeks, growing larger with each passing day. Summer proved to be hot and hazy, with a few rainy days here and there. This added to Vera's growing discomfort, causing her to snap and bark at her husband over the smallest things. All of a sudden, she couldn't _wait_ for this baby to be born. She was tired, her back and breasts ached, she was faced with quite a few attacks of heartburn, started going to the bathroom a bit more frequently, and felt overly-emotional overall.

Lombard eventually learned to be weary around his pregnant wife and to most certainly _think_ before _speaking,_ as he learned the hard way when showing her the furnished baby room one day in July.

"Philip," whispered Vera, her eyes watering at the sight of the crib on the right side of the wall, nursery rhyme books piled up on a small bookshelf, and the custard-yellow walls. "It's _beautiful."_

"And the baby will love it," said Lombard, smiling.

Vera spun around. "And you _assume_ the baby will love it?" she said tensely. "You think the baby's favourite colour will be _yellow_ or that it will _like_ Mother Goose?"

"No, that's not what I meant," said Lombard quickly.

"Oh, then what _did_ you mean?" snapped Vera. "Did you mean to say that the baby won't love _us,_ just its _room?_ Do you think I'm _ugly?"_

"No, no, of course not," said Lombard quickly, wiping the tears off Vera's cheeks. "I think you're beautiful."

Vera's face crumpled up and she burst into tears and stormed out of the room.

* * *

It was on the fifth day of August that Vera insisted on taking Lombard out for a drive across town to buy the baby some new toys and clothes.

"I'm telling you, Vera, it will be _quite_ some time before the baby can actually _play _with these," said Lombard as he and Vera drove through town after having bought out nearly every toy store and clothing store in town.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to come prepared for when she's older," said Vera, who no longer ignored her instincts about the baby being a girl. "I'm sure she will appreciate that her mother at least _cared_ enough to want her to have the finest..."

Her voice trailed off when she saw the cemetery to her left. "Philip," she said, "could you please park here for now?"

* * *

She had a hunch as to which graveyard this was, and once she and Lombard had made the journey to the graves they were looking for, she was right. They saw eight tombstones with the names Anthony James Marston, Ethel Louise Rogers, John Gordon Macarthur, Thomas Rogers, Emily Caroline Brent, Lawrence John Wargrave, Edward George Armstrong, and William Henry Blore in a row.

Suddenly, it didn't feel right—them being here, and the others being gone. It was as though they had cheated somehow. It chilled them to think that this could've been _them_ had the boat not arrived earlier. And yet here they were, a married couple expecting their first child, having confronted and triumphed over their personal demons. Unlike those other guests, _they_ had a future, _they_ had been given a second chance to make their lives right.

And they had not wasted that chance.

"Three days," said Vera softly. "Just three days, Philip, and it will be exactly one year since...what are we going to do?"

"I don't know," said Lombard softly. "I never thought of that."

Vera's eyes darted over the names. Suddenly, she could hear their voices, smell the colognes of the men, feel sympathy for the general, feel nothing for Miss Brent...

"I think we should make a third trip to Indian Island," she said. "On the eighth. And we should go back home on the eleventh."

Lombard turned to Vera. "Vera," he said, "are you sure?"

"It gets easier with each visit, I find," said Vera. "Wedding jitters aside, I was nowhere _near_ as nerve-wrecked the last time we were there than the time before."

"But what if you go into labour on the island?" asked Lombard. "There'll be no doctor. I suppose I _could_ try to deliver the baby myself, but what if something goes wrong?"

"I'm not due until the nineteenth, Philip," said Vera. "We'll still have plenty of time. Still, I don't suppose it could hurt to have my family, and my doctor, with me just in case."

* * *

Lombard wanted to cancel the trip upon hearing that Dr. Kelly was out of town visiting his sick mother, until, upon informing Fred Narracott of the cancellation over the phone, Fred mentioned that he had some experience in delivering babies: "I delivered all three of my children!" he proudly boasted.

Lombard was still a bit reluctant to let Fred come with them, but Vera had her heart set on going back to the island, so he proceeded to invite his mother, Vera's parents, and Evelyn to come along, unaware that while the first three most significant events in their relationship had occurred on the island, one more was on the way...

* * *

Vera woke up on the eighth of August and had breakfast with her husband in uncomfortable silence. They were thinking back to what they had been doing in the morning around this time last year. Lombard hadn't had much time for breakfast; he simply grabbed a muffin and went on his way. He had not gone with anyone, he had chosen to go on his own and not speak to anyone.

In contrast, Vera had woken up to the smell of blueberry pancakes, made by Evelyn to help get her out of bed. She had gone over her wardrobe with Evelyn one last time just to make sure her choices were appropriate and wouldn't give Mrs. Owen the wrong impression before Evelyn took her to the train station and...they shared a hug, without much time to talk...

"Can't wait to get going," said Lombard at last.

"Yes," said Vera. "Neither can I."

* * *

The boat trip to the island was in silence and solemnity. Several times, Vera felt herself get a bit seasick, but she was able to hold it down and look straight ahead, avoiding the eyes of her mother and her sister. Lombard would hold Vera's hand and stroke it, thinking back to how he had thought of Vera upon their first meeting on that faithful train ride: _Quite attractive—a bit schoolmistressy, perhaps...A cool customer, he should imagine—and one who could hold her own—in love or war. He'd rather like to take her on..._

He had scolded himself for thinking this, reminding himself that he had to keep his mind on the job.

Had he known that that the woman sitting across him on the train would eventually become his wife, he would've thought different, that was for sure...

As the island slowly began to approach, Evelyn was the first to speak: "You know, Vera, I'm a bit envious."

Startled by the sudden sound, Vera said, "Why?"

"Because when Derek asks how Richard and I met—and you know he will—my story will be boring," said Evelyn with a smile on her face. "But when your child asks how you and Philip met, your story will be _exciting!"_

Lombard was the only one who laughed at this.

* * *

The atmosphere grew solemner once everyone was on the island and inside the house. Vera still remembered how Mrs. Rogers had frightened her with her ghost-like appearance, though she suspected Mrs. Rogers had been more frightened of _her._ Lombard could hear the echoing gong signalling it was time for the prey to come enjoy the last supper.

"My, it's been quite some time since we were last here, hasn't it?" said Mrs. Claythorne. "And this house is _exactly_ as I remember it! Isn't that queer?"

Without saying a word, Lombard and Vera began to walk up the stairs. They only spoke when they reached the top: "Your room or mine, Philip?"

"Well, we always end up in mine one way or another anyway," said Lombard lightheartedly.

Vera winced and rubbed her aching back. "My back is _so_ sore," she sighed.

"Is it time?" asked Evelyn quickly, following behind.

"No, I don't think so," sighed Vera. "But I'm sure I'll know when."

* * *

By dinnertime, the mood had lightened somewhat.

"Philip tells me you're nesting," said Mrs. Claythorne with a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, I never said anything about nesting," said Lombard.

"That's what it's called," explained Mrs. Claythorne. "It's when the mother gets the urge to stock up on everything for the baby, even if she ends up buying more than the baby will actually _need,_ such as toys or extra clothing. A woman isn't officially in her ninth month until she begins to nest. Remember when I nested, Fred? My husband, not you, Mr. Narracott."

"Quite a bit," nodded Mr. Claythorne.

"You know," said Fred, "I never really took the time to stay in this house much, and I have to say it gives me the willies. To think that eight people _died_ in here..."

"Three if you want to get technical," spoke up Lombard. "Everyone else died outside."

"Philip!" hissed Vera. She attempted to change the subject: "I have names picked out for the baby."

"Don't tell us, dear," said Mrs. Claythorne. "It's best to keep them secret."

Evelyn spoke: "I'll bet you can't wait for this to be over!"

"Oh, _yes!"_ sighed Vera.

"Well, it's not that much longer," said Mrs. Claythorne. She then added, "I think you should be extremely careful while on Indian Island, Vera. Women seldom give birth on their precise due dates. Evelyn was born one week late, you two days late, and your brother...."

"Three months early," said Mr. Claythorne, finishing that sentence for his wife.

"I'm sure this baby won't be born until long after we leave Indian Island," said Vera with a wave of her hand.

* * *

Lombard and Vera spent the night together in Lombard's bed, trying not to think of what had happened in this house exactly one year ago. They tried to block the scathing indictment of the gramophone record out of their ears, the horrifying vision of Anthony Marston's twisted blue lips...

"What were you thinking about, Philip?" asked Vera. "On our first night here?"

Lombard said slowly, "I'm not really _sure._ A number of things, yes. Exactly _what,_ I don't know. Well, I thought of Marston's death, that's for sure. I thought of how it was impossible that someone as lively and gay as him could ever take their own life. I thought of how I never expected to be accused of being a murderer, along with nine other people, and then have someone like _him,_ who didn't appear the slightest bit choked up over running down those two children, commit suicide out of the blue. Yes, perhaps I was thinking of Marston's death in general." He looked over curiously at her. "What about you, Vera? What were you thinking about? Hugo?"

Vera sighed and her eyes drifted elsewhere.

"I take that as a yes, then?" said Lombard.

"Hugo never left me," she said. "He was gone, yes. He was out of my life, but he never truly _left_ me. It felt as though he were close to me that night. The thought of him acted as some sort of security blanket, given the events. I thought of him...and of Cyril."

She shook her head, thinking of how lovesick she had been only a year ago, how she would've given _anything_ to know Hugo still loved her and was thinking of her, even if it was her own life. She had known it long before going, but a pathetic part of her never stopped hoping.

"I have changed," she whispered.

"What was that?" asked Lombard.

Vera turned to look at her husband. "I've been wondering if I've changed or not," she said. "And I think it's safe to say I have. I love you, but you're not my life, not like Hugo was. It doesn't mean I _don't_ love you; it means I've learned not to obsess over love and to just _live._ And more importantly, I have learned that murder is _never_ justified, not even by love."

She shuddered slightly. Lombard wrapped one arm around her belly. "I keep debating with myself if we should tell this baby the full story behind how we met when she's older," she said. "Including...what we had done. She'll obviously ask just what we did to earn our place here as criminals, and I don't want to lie and say we never did anything wrong. Then again, given Mrs. Hamilton's reaction..."

"Well, I don't think she'll run away," said Lombard. "She may be a bit upset at first, but I don't think she'd actually run away."

Vera smiled. "You're calling her 'she'."

"Oh," said Lombard. "Well, I'm just used to you calling it a 'she' for so long, that's all." He gave her a kiss. "Good night, darling."

"Good night, love."

* * *

The next day went relatively peaceful. It wasn't totally easy to forget what had happened this time last year, but they were trying. They spent the day taking a walk around the island with family, discussing, laughing, and joking. They'd discuss various plans they had for the future, unaware of what was soon to happen...

* * *

The first half of August the tenth was bright and sunny, which was why Evelyn, Philip, and Vera were dismayed for it to rain in the late afternoon while taking a walk.

"Well, I suppose it was too good to last," sighed Evelyn as the three began to walk back up to the house.

"It's not raining _too _hard," said Lombard. "Still, heading back would be a good idea."

Vera nodded wordlessly, her back aching intensely. Strange. It wasn't unusual for her back to ache, given how far she was into her pregnancy, but not like _this._

Vera suddenly stopped walking. Her legs suddenly felt quite wet...and she had a feeling they weren't wet from the rain...curious, she looked down...and saw a puddle of water at her feet that did _not_ look like it had been made by the rain...

_Oh God._

"Philip," Vera called out. She screamed, "PHILIP!"

Lombard turned around at the exact same time Evelyn did. "Vera?" said Lombard, running up to her. "What is it?"

She was feeling cramps similar to the cramps she felt around her period...only these were worse...much, _much _worse...

Evelyn took one look at her sister's face and instinctively knew what was happening. "Oh God," she said. She ran up to Vera and took her by the hand. "Philip, we are getting her into the house _immediately._ Take her other hand."

Lombardo obeyed and took Vera's other hand. "Is it the baby?" he asked as they began to walk-run up to the house.

"Yes—OW!" screamed Vera as the contraction grew more and more painful.

Lombard could feel himself pale, but he only said, "Just hang in there, it'll be all right."

They made their way up to the porch, where Mr. and Mrs. Claythorne were beginning to go in for the night.

"Mother!" called out Evelyn. "Father!"

They stopped and turned to see Vera being helped up the porch by Lombard and Evelyn. "It's time," said Evelyn.

"Are you _sure?"_ asked Mrs. Claythorne.

"Yes, I'm _quite_ sure," snapped Vera, gritting her teeth. "Now where the _hell_ is--OW--Fred?"

* * *

"Breathe, Vera, breathe," said Mrs. Claythorne, taking her daughter by the hand as she lay in her old bedroom twenty minutes later, having changed into her nightgown, which made it a _bit_ more comfortable, though not by much.

"Can't," panted Vera.

"Just relax," said Evelyn, sitting on the other side of the bed. "It'll all be over soon."

Vera let out a breath as the contraction ended and lay her head down on the pillow, knowing too surely she was in for a _long_ night.


	48. Through The Night

48

**Through The Night**

Lombard paced back and forth outside Vera's room. It was now seven o'clock in the evening. Fred had assured everyone Vera would be just fine for now and that she was far from being dilated enough to start pushing and that they could have supper while he stayed upstairs just to make sure everything went all right, but Lombard did not feel very hungry. He could only stay upstairs and wait outside Vera's room as though the baby would be born any minute.

Lombard finally gathered up the nerve to knock on the door. "May I come in?" he asked. "It's only Philip."

There was a pause before Fred called out from behind the door, "Vera wants to be alone for the time being, so go on downstairs. She'll be perfectly _fine,_ really."

"Doesn't she get to eat _anything_ at _all?"_ asked Lombard.

There was another pause. "Now that you mention it," said Fred, "she _can_ have a bite to eat. I don't see why not. She wants you to go down and get a slice of that chicken for her to eat."

"Okay, I'll be right back," said Lombard. He then ran down the hall, down the stairs, and straight to the dining room, where everyone had been eating in silence until now.

"Excuse me," panted Lombard. "Vera would like a slice of chicken."

"Certainly," said Mrs. Claythorne, who began to cut a slice and put it down on a plate. She handed the plate over to Lombard, who then marched out of the dining room with it.

Evelyn noticed her mother's eyes beginning to mist over. "Mother?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

Mrs. Claythorne blinked and tears fell down her face. She softly said, "I swear it was only yesterday I was lying in bed giving life to your sister. Where has the time gone?"

"I know just how you feel, Clara," said Carolina, who was beginning to tear up as well. "I was holding little Philip in my arms before giving him up only yesterday...and now here he is: a _father."_

* * *

Lombard, who was by now at Vera's door, lightly rapped on the door. "I'm here with supper," he said.

There was a pause before Fred opened the door ever so slightly. "I'll take that," he said, taking the plate from Lombard's hand.

"May I come in, now?" asked Lombard.

He could hear Vera saying, "No, I'd rather be by myself with just Fred for the time being, thank you. I'll let you know when I want you."

"Did you hear that?" asked Fred.

Lombard nodded. He closed the door and stood outside, laughing softly. The judge had faked his death around this time last year. He could hear Vera's panicked scream from when the seaweed had touched her face. He could feel his own heart pounding as he thought, _Please don't let me be too late, please don't let me be too late..._

His feelings for Vera had begun to rise during that time, though he suspected it was nothing more than a blind infatuation back then. What he and Vera had now was real love. What made love real and what made it an infatuation, he was having a clear understanding of: Infatuation came and went. It was like a delicious pastry: Tasty while it lasted, but not very filling once it was gone. Real love was less fickle than that. Real love came and lasted a good, long time.

What he and Jennifer had...had that been real love? It hadn't lasted, but it was far too serious to just be an infatuation. Yes, perhaps it had been real love, but not even that had lasted forever. Then again, nothing ever did last forever.

Lombard thought of what his attitude towards fatherhood had been eight years ago...and what it had become now. Eight years ago, he balked at the opportunity of having a child; now, a pathetic part of him actually looked forward to the birth of this baby, even if he wouldn't do a very good job in raising it. He laughed as he imagined the morals he would end up teaching it: "Now, son, just remember to shoot right on target...my darling daughter, if you want to get out of trouble, you need to learn how to effectively lie..."

Did any of that sounded like something he would say today, though?

Lombard shook his head and sighed. He had tried to be more of a straight man ever since he was reunited with his mother, so perhaps he could continue to try for the sake of his...daughter?

"Looks like it's catching on," laughed Lombard to himself.

* * *

At nine o'clock, Vera's parents came in and sat on either side of their daughter, Evelyn waiting outside with Carolina and Lombard. Her contractions were becoming tighter and more painful with each passing hour.

"Just think positively, dear," encouraged Mr. Claythorne. "With each passing contraction, you are getting closer to the birth of this baby."

Vera continued to breathe in and out in the way her mother was teaching her. Was it around this time she had gotten scared by the seaweed? Or was she getting ready for bed? Or was she already in bed, thinking about...about what she had told Cyril?

"Keep breathing, dear," encouraged Mrs. Claythorne. "Keep breathing."

"I'm...trying," gasped Vera, wondering what had gotten into her when she decided on coming back here. What if something was wrong with the baby? What if something happened to _her?_ Would Fred's alleged expertise be much use then?

"Now relax," ordered Fred.

Vera let out a breath and the contraction slowly ended.

"Well, it's still going to be quite some time before that baby is born," said Fred. "But you're getting there. How many minutes apart was that contraction, Fred?"

"About forty-five minutes," replied Mr. Claythorne.

As the two men began to talk, Vera closed her eyes and thought, _To think, I was bemoaning the loss of my beloved Hugo around this time last year...but I survived. I moved on._

Was this the time Dr. Armstrong had been killed after being lured into his death by the judge? No, it had to have been a bit later than that, when everyone was asleep...

She _had_ fallen asleep eventually, she knew that. When she had, she was not sure.

"Do you want us to stay, dear?" said Mrs. Claythorne gently.

Vera opened her eyes and nodded. "I feel a bit tired," she said.

"Then rest," said Mr. Claythorne.

Vera lay her head down on the pillow, closing her eyes once more. Tomorrow would be exactly one year since she and Philip had been rescued from this hell. It would also be exactly five years since she had committed the very act that would ultimately result in her meeting her future husband.

A smile twitched on Vera's lips. There was a very good chance her child would be born tomorrow, perhaps in the early hours of the morning if she was lucky. Of course, she had also heard of women being in labour for an entire _day_, even two days...lord, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to last that long...she sincerely hoped it _would_ be born tomorrow.

If it were to be born tomorrow, it would mark the third most significant event in Vera's life that occurred on that day.

Well, it would be poetic justice, she supposed: The child was conceived on Indian Island and would thus be born on Indian Island.

This was her last thought before slowly drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Lombard was unable to sleep in his own bed. He'd drift off to sleep and then wake up with a sudden feeling of urgency. He'd rush to Vera's room, gently open the door and peek in to see a sleeping Vera with either her mother, father, sister, Carolina, or Fred at her side (depending on the hour), close the door, and go back to bed, only to repeat the same pattern.

It was at around five in the morning that he resolved once and for all to remain at Vera's side until she was ready to give birth. He got out of bed and gently walked down the hall. He gently opened the door and walked in, closing the door behind him. Vera was awake and lying down in bed with her mother by her side, who lay down on the bed asleep, holding her daughter's hand.

"Philip," whispered Vera. She gestured for him to sit beside her.

As Lombard sat down on the bed, he whispered, "How have you been doing?"

"Fine, I suppose," said Vera slowly. "I haven't really been able to sleep much, though. I've been sleeping in between the contractions, but they keep getting shorter now, so I don't think it will be very long until...anyway, after the last one, I've found it difficult to get back to sleep. My mind keeps racing about how it's almost time."

"I know what you mean," said Lombard. "I can't stop thinking about it, too. My God, we're actually going to be _parents..._" He shook his head. "Where's Fred?"

"Downstairs," replied Vera. "He had my mother sit beside me and said to come fetch him when I'm ten centimetres dilated. He says that's when I can start pushing." She paused before saying, "Sorry I didn't want you around much." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I just wanted it to be me and my family for now."

"I understand," said Lombard.

Neither of them spoke after that. Lombard would just sit there beside Vera, the two feeling a bit anxious and scared about what was to come. They had had many hopes for their futures to become better after being rescued...but neither of them would've ever expected _this..._

After about thirty minutes, Vera gasped, "Oh God."

"What is it?" asked Lombard sharply. "Is it time?"

"I think so," gasped Vera, this contraction growing more and more painful. She let out a cry of pain, causing her mother's eyes to open and reflexively sit up.

"What is it, darling?" asked Mrs. Claythorne quickly, barely paying attention to Lombard's presence. "Is it time?"

"Check," said Vera through gritted teeth. "Ow-w-w-w-w!"

As her mother began to check, Vera grabbed Lombard's hand and clenched it tightly. "Relax, darling," said Lombard, who could feel his wife's fingernails digging deep into his palms. "It'll all be over soon."

"That you are right about," said Mrs. Claythorne, looking up. "The baby's head is in sight."

"What?" said Lombard faintly.

"It's time," said Mrs. Claythorne, nodding fervently as she took her place sitting right beside her daughter.

"Already?" asked Lombard, getting himself out of Vera's grasp and standing up.

"Yes, _NOW!" _shrieked Vera, who was more than ready for this to be over.


	49. And Then There Were Three

49

**And Then There Were Three**

Without a second to spare, Lombard dashed out of the bedroom, down the hall, down the stairs, and into the main hall, where he saw Fred pacing back and forth. "Fred," he panted. "It's time."

Fred took his pipe out of his mouth. "Are you _sure?_" he asked.

"Yes!" nodded Lombard. "Now come, quickly!"

Lombard took off, Fred following right behind, and ran back up the stairs, back down the hall, and straight into the bedroom, where Vera kept breathing in quick breaths.

"You can do it, Vera, see? Mr. Narracott is here," pointed out Mrs. Claythorne.

"Aye, but I have to wash my hands first," nodded Fred. "We wouldn't want any infections, now would we?"

"Wash your _hands?_" snapped Vera. _"Wash your hands?_ I'm in PAIN here, and all you can think about is your precious—OW!" she screamed as the contraction grew stronger.

"It'll take just two seconds," called out Fred as he went into the bathroom.

"It'll be okay, Vera," said Lombard as he sat down on the bed next to Vera and held her hand. "He'll be right back."

"Easy for _you_ to say!" snapped Vera, her hair matted with sweat.

Fred came back in and, walking up to Vera, said, "See? I told you it wouldn't take that long." He then spread her knees apart ever so slightly and took a closer examination. "All right...things seem to be going great so far...now it's time to push! Push, Vera, push!"

Vera began to push with all her might. The harder she pushed, the harder she squeezed Lombard's hand, her fingernails digging deep into his palm.

"You can do it, honey!" encouraged Mrs. Claythorne. "Just keep going, keep going."

Vera continued to push before letting out screams upon screams of agony. She had been told that giving birth was the most miraculous thing in the world; what she hadn't been told was that it was also the most _painful_ thing in the world_._ It was pure _agony._

"LOMBARD YOU BASTARD, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" screamed Vera as she continued to push.

"You're doing great, the baby's head is in sight," called out Fred. "Just keep pushing, keep pushing..."

"I _AM_ PUSHING!" shrieked Vera.

Lombard could feel his wife's pain, for he had to bite his lip to the point where it bled to keep himself from screaming bloody murder just like his wife. He finally decided to open his mouth to give out words of encouragement, "You're doing great, Vera, just keep pushing; it's almost over..."

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" screamed Vera. "I—_ugh_—CAN'T BELIEVE_—uuuggghh_—YOU TALKED ME INTO THIS! _Aaahhhh!"_

"All right, now relax," ordered Fred.

Vera obeyed and resumed to breathing in and out rapidly. Lombard took advantage of the opportunity to rub his sore hand.

"Okay...we're almost there...now I just need you to give me one more big push," said Fred. "Wait until I tell you...okay...now."

Lombard slipped his hand back in Vera's and whispered, "It'll be okay."

Vera took his words of encouragement into mind and pushed as hard as she could, beads of perspiration pouring down her forehead, extreme pain shooting throughout her body, screams of bloody murder escaping her mouth.

After what felt like years of pushing, Vera felt a very strong urge to relax, and she did. She let out a breath and her head collapsed on the pillow. Lombard gently stroked her cheek...and then they both looked up when they were startled by a noise.

_It was the cry of a baby._

_Their baby._

Fred held the screaming baby up and said, "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Lombard. You have a lovely little girl."

The baby girl had a tomato-red face, a lop-sided head, and was covered with amniotic fluid and God knows what else...yet looked positively beautiful.

Mrs. Claythorne smiled and wept tears of joy.

"Mr. Lombard?" said Fred. "Would you like to cut the cord?"

Dazed, Lombard slowly got up and picked up the scissors that were on the nightstand. He walked up to Fred and, shaking the entire time, severed the umbilical cord.

"The baby's home still needs to be removed, and it will be once it comes," said Fred. "In the mean time, Mr. Lombard, would you like to take your daughter and clean her off in the bathroom?"

_Your daughter._

Lombard nodded, not entirely taking it in. Fred placed the baby girl down on a white blanket and gently wrapped her up in it before handing her over to her father.

Lombard gasped slightly as he struggled to hold the baby supportively. He then got up in a rush and went straight into the bathroom, the baby still crying. He put the baby down on the counter near the sink and began to turn on the water, using a nearby washcloth (the washcloths had been laid out the night before for when the baby arrived) to wipe off the gunk all over the baby's body.

"Ugly little thing, aren't you?" said Lombard. "Then again, all newborn babies are absolutely _hideous_. I'm sure that within time, you will grow up to become a beauty who will need to chase away the men with a stick."

The baby had stopped crying and was now whimpering softly.

_She recognizes my voice,_ Lombard realized. Hoping to get her to calm down a bit more, he said, "I take it, then, that life inside your mother was a bit cosier than this? I know for certain it feels a bit strange to live in a place entirely different from the one you're used to."

The baby slowly opened her eyes, which were adjusting to the dim light. Father and daughter made eye contact. Her eyes were light blue, though Lombard doubted it would last as all babies were born with blue eyes. Still, it was nice to think she'd grow up resembling her father somewhat.

Lombard gently wrapped the baby up in her blanket and held her in his arms, continuing to look deep into the baby girl's eyes. Here he was, holding a new life he had helped to create.

A new life he would get to call his own.

His daughter.

A smile slowly spread across Lombard's lips. "You're just like your mother," he whispered. "You can make someone fall in love with you instantly."

His voice choked up. _Get it together, man, _thought Lombard. _This isn't like you, to be crying over, of all things, a snivelling infant!_

But the tears came anyway, gently pouring down his face and onto the snow-white blanket, soft as fleece.

He stood there for several minutes, holding his daughter as though she would be taken away from him, when he heard Vera grunting followed by Fred going, "Oh, here we go!"

"Oh God," muttered Lombard, walking as fast as he could without dropping the baby. "Not _twins._"

"It's all right!" called out Fred just as Lombard took one step out of the bathroom. "It's just the baby's home!"

Lombard relaxed and stood there for a few more minutes, wanting to get the most out of this moment.

As Fred collected the freshly-delivered placenta, Vera slowly opened her eyes. She hadn't spoken since the birth. She could only lie there and wait for the final stage of it to be over. Now, she found the strength to say, "Mother...what on _Earth_ would _ever_ make you want to _do _this?"

Mrs. Claythorne smiled at Vera and pushed a strand of sweat-matted hair behind her ear. "You and your sister," was her reply.

There was a knock on the door. "May we come in?" said Carolina's voice.

"Of course," called out Mrs. Claythorne.

The door opened. Carolina and Evelyn quietly came in. "We heard screaming," said Evelyn. "Is it..."

"Yes," said Mrs. Claythorne. "The baby's here."

"Where is it?" asked Carolina.

"Right here," said Lombard, stepping forward. "It's a girl."

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by his mother and sister-in-law, who were both gushing over how adorable the baby was. Instead of thinking, _Women!_, he thought, _Yes, she is._

Carolina finally asked if she could hold her. Lombard (reluctantly) placed the baby into her arms.

"Hello, sweetie," crooned Carolina. "It's your granny."

While all the women took turns getting a chance to hold the baby, Lombard sat next to Vera on the bed. He said, "How are you feeling?"

Vera slowly opened her eyes and said, "How do you _think_ I'm feeling?"

"Trust me, that was how my wife was after she gave birth," assured Fred when Lombard looked worried. "Just let me perform a quick check-up to make sure everything is all right."

As he did so, Lombard held Vera's hand and gently stroked it. "Is she okay?" asked Vera.

"No," said Lombard, smiling. "She's wonderful." He laughed, "I'm not the sentimental sort, but still."

"I know just what you mean," said Fred. "Everything feels just about right, though I'm of the opinion you should still check in with the local hospital just to make sure. Speaking of which, when would you like to go back?"

"I think we'll both still need a bit of time to adjust to this," said Vera. "But maybe at around three o'clock in the afternoon."

Fred smiled and nodded. "Well, now, I suppose the two of you just want your families around," he said. "I'll be outside if you need me."

As Fred began to walk out of the bedroom, he nearly bumped into Mr. Claythorne, who was coming in at around the same time. He slowly walked up to his wife, who was the one currently holding the baby.

"May I hold it?" he asked.

"Of course you may," said Mrs. Claythorne. "And it's a girl."

She gently placed the baby in her husband's arms. It was clear from the look on his face that her prophecy of how he'd fall in love with the baby and leave all animosity behind had indeed come true.

"Come here, sweetie," said Mr. Claythorne softly. "Grandpa's going to take very good care of you."

"Now what do you say?" teased Mrs. Claythorne.

Mr. Claythorne sighed, "You were right. I was wrong. I love this baby more than anything. Satisfied?"

"Yes, I am," said Mrs. Claythorne.

Vera slowly propped herself up a bit further so she'd be partially sitting up, ignoring her sore back. "May I hold her now?" she asked.

"Of course, of course," said Mr. Claythorne quickly.

Vera stretched out her arms, a tingling feeling set in as the baby was passed down into her arms. She held it with as much support as her arms would allow and looked deep into its eyes, which were full of love and purity.

This...was a human being who knew nothing of murder, of good or evil, that its parents were murderers or what they had gone through last year. This human being was the result of a single passionate moment between its mother and its father, a moment where passion overruled common sense. This human being...was her child.

Her very own _child._

Her _daughter._

"Hi there," said Vera softly. She blinked and her cheeks felt hot and wet. "It's me. Your mummy."

She held the baby closer and completely broke down sobbing. She was actually a _mother._ After years of wanting to have a baby but having the courtesy to wait to meet a man she truly cared about, and thinking it would _never_ happen, especially after Hugo...this was just like her wedding day, only better.

Much, much better.

"Have you thought of a name?" asked Mrs. Claythorne.

"Well, I'm not very good with choosing names, and Vera said she didn't want me to make any suggestions at all because she already had names picked out," shrugged Lombard. "So, Vera. What is it you're going to name this bouncing baby girl?"

Vera looked around at her family, then looked down into the eyes of her daughter. "Cyrilla," was her reply. "Cyrilla Ophelia Lombard."

"After Cyril?" said Mrs. Claythorne softly.

Vera nodded. Once her guilt over Cyril had fully set in, she had made up her mind to at least pay respect to his memory by naming her very first child after him. If it was a boy, he would've had Cyril's full name, but she hoped this feminine substitute would do.

"That's a very sweet gesture, dear," said Mr. Claythorne. "I'm sure his mother would approve."

"Do you approve, Philip?" asked Vera, looking up.

"Sure, why not?" shrugged Lombard. "I'm up for anything. What you came up with was better than anything _I_ could've put together."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think up something for the next baby," said Vera.

"The _next_ baby?" said Evelyn, raising an eyebrow.

"Years from now," said Vera quickly. "Years and _years_ from now!"

Her parents laughed.

"So it's settled," said Lombard. "She will be Cyrilla Ophelia Lombard."

Vera smiled at Cyrilla, who let out a gurgle and started opening her mouth wide. "I think she's hungry," said Vera. "Could you all please leave for now?"

"Of course," said Carolina, smiling. "Once again, congratulations, Vera."

She turned to Mr. Claythorne and shook his hand. Surprised, he shook back with a firm grip.

* * *

Nearly two hours later, Vera woke up to find herself still holding Cyrilla in her arms, surprised to see she had fallen asleep shortly after feeding her.

She yawned. She had an urge to take a short walk, but who to leave the baby with for the time being?

With the baby still in one arm, Vera slowly stood up, groaning and rubbing her back with her free hand. No one had told her she would feel so _sore!_

"The joys of motherhood," she muttered, slowly opening the door and walking down the hall, where she saw Evelyn standing there.

"Oh, Vera, you're up," said Evelyn, surprised. "I had just come up to check on you and the baby. How's she doing?"

"I think she's sleeping," said Vera quietly. "I would like to take a walk right now. Would you mind tending to her for now?"

"Not at all," said Evelyn cheerfully. "Now that I'm an auntie."

Vera gently placed Cyrilla in Evelyn's arms. She gave her a kiss on the forehead and said, "See you later, sweetie. Mummy loves you."

She then went back into her room and quickly wrapped a black shawl around her shoulders. She looked down and laughed at the sight of her nightgown, which was stained with amniotic fluid and God knew what else!

Well, she didn't really have anything that would fit her, so she supposed this would have to do for the time being.

Rubbing her sore back the entire way through, Vera walked out of her room, down the hall, down the stairs, and right through the main hall, where she slowly opened the doors to the outside.

Vera wasn't entirely sure what time it was right now, but she estimated it to be around seven or eight o'clock in the morning. Unfortunately, the sun could not tell her the time, for it was raining. It was not a heavy rainstorm, but it was still enough to cloud up the skies.

Vera realized she wasn't wearing slippers. She shrugged and thought, _To hell with slippers!_

Laughing in spite of herself, she gently walked down the steps and out into the rain. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, smiling as she felt the raindrops cleanse her face.

_Cleanse..._it was funny, but in a way, it felt as though the rain was indeed cleansing her somehow...as though it was some sort of baptism cleansing her of her sins, causing her to be born anew, as a different person...

She laughed at such thoughts and opened her eyes. Squinting just a bit, she walked barefoot, feeling the wet, cool grass curl beneath her feet and tickle her toes.

She finally stopped at the woodshed, where Rogers' body had been found.

"Rogers always was the ever-faithful butler," murmured Vera. "At least we knew how to get the marmalade!"

She walked further up to the woodshed and very lightly touched the wood with the tips of her fingers. She felt like a very young child who was beginning to truly observe the world for the first time, to take delight in the smallest things grown-ups took for granted, such as touch.

"Lovely weather we're having, aren't we?"

Startled, Vera turned—and saw Lombard standing on the other side of the woodshed. "Could barely eat," he said. "I had this urge to take a walk in spite of the rain—to clear my mind."

Both he and Vera took a few steps forward. "I should imagine this woodshed would be a lovely place to sneak off and have a quick lovemaking session," he said cheerfully. "I get the feeling, though, that you're not in the mood, am I correct?"

"No," laughed Vera.

Lombard smiled and took Vera by the hand. The two took a slow, gentle walk until they were just about halfway across the yard. He turned towards Vera and wrapped his arms around her waist, and she around his shoulders.

"To think, there was even a small chance we would not get to live to see this," said Lombard softly. "And yet, here we are."

"Let's not think about the past, darling," whispered Vera. "Let's think about the future."

And with that, the two shared a long, passionate kiss in the rain, looking forward to the years they had ahead of them.

* * *

**A/N: Aww, this would be such a sweet place to end the story, now wouldn't it?**

**Except...there's more! Just one more chapter and the darn thing will finally be finished! It will be the epilogue and it will detail the events of Lombard and Vera's lives during the past thirteen years (possibly longer, if I get the urge) and tie up any loose ends that need tying. Namely, Vera telling the truth about Cyril to her family, Lombard bonding with his mother and learning how to be a good father, and the more children that are in the happy couple's future!**

**Now first of all, I am glad to get the reviews I have gotten so far, but when reviewing the final chapter, I would very much appreciate reviews that go more in-depth with the loose ends tied up. For example, it would be nice to get "Great ending!" but it would be even better to get "I really liked how you did this and that with the ending." Once you read the epilogue, you will see why!**


	50. Thirteen Candles

50

**Thirteen Candles**

On the eleventh day of August, 1953, the entire family was gathered around the dining table of the dining room on Indian Island, celebrating the birthday of a young girl who was blossoming into a beautiful woman much too quickly for Lombard or Vera's liking.

"Make a wish, honey!" encouraged Vera as she set the cake before her now thirteen-year-old daughter, Cyrilla.

Cyrilla resembled her mother in almost every way possible—her hair, her eyes, her beauty, her grace—with the exception of her mouth, which was entirely her father's. In personality, she had her father's fiery spirit but her mother's grace.

Cyrilla focused steadily on the thirteen candles that lay ahead of her. She took a deep breath and blew them all out.

Vera gently took each candle out one at a time before cutting the strawberry cake (Cyrilla's favourite flavour). As she served Cyrilla her piece, she thought, _What happened to the baby I was holding in my arms just a few days ago?_

"I want a flower!" piped up a five-year-old Marina, the only one of her siblings who completely resembled her father, with the exception of her jaw.

"You _always_ want the flower," said eight-year-old Peter, who, like his older sister, strongly resembled his mother and only had his father's smile.

"Now, children, don't fight on such a special day," said Lombard, who sat between Peter and Marina.

"Don't forget the twins over here!" called out Mrs. Claythorne, holding up the twin boy, Louis, her husband holding the twin girl, Katherine, both of whom had celebrated their very first birthdays just a few days ago.

"I'll be over in just a minute," called out Vera as she served Peter and Marina their pieces. She gave Lombard his piece and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Ew!" squealed Marina. "Cooties!"

Vera lightly chuckled and walked back over to the cake to cut Evelyn, Derek, and Ann's pieces.

"Can I get a flower, too?" said Ann eagerly. Ann was around the same age as Peter, only the two had birthdays that were off by a week. Ann, for the most part, resembled her mother.

"One minute, Ann," said Evelyn, laughing. "Just be _patient._"

Derek smiled and gave his sister a gentle tousle of her hair. "Just wait little Annie," he said. "It will come."

Vera served the cake to Derek and Ann smiling. With Evelyn, she hesitated a bit before putting the piece down. The women had caught eyes, resulting in a temporary tense moment.

Fleta joked, "Hey, Vera, don't forget us little people over here!"

"One minute, Fleta," said Vera.

"Aw, mum, I can wait," said a twenty-two year old Matthew, home from college for the time being.

"This has been a _great_ birthday so far, mum," said Cyrilla, grinning. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, dearest," said Vera as she cut off the next two pieces.

Cyrilla then said quietly, "It's too bad Granny Lombard isn't here, though."

The table fell silent. At around the same time Vera found out she was pregnant with Louis and Katherine, Carolina discovered she had cancer. She had fought it with all her might, but sadly, she lost her battle when the twins were just a few months old.

"Yes," said Lombard quietly. "It's too bad she really isn't." He smiled. "But I'm sure she's watching you from above and she's really proud of you."

Cyrilla smiled and the atmosphere lightened somewhat.

Vera served Fleta and Matthew their pieces before cutting up her parents' pieces, which they would share with the twins.

"So, Fred, how's the paper going?" asked Lombard.

"Better than ever," replied Mr. Claythorne. He then said to Katherine, "What's that, sweetie? Are you trying to say something to grandpa, hmm?"

"I think she wants cake," said Vera, walking up to her parents with the plates in hand.

Overall, it was a very joyful birthday.

* * *

Later that evening, when everyone else was getting ready for bed, Vera and Lombard took a walk down to the beach.

"I think our daughter's thirteenth birthday went over pretty well," said Lombard. "I only wish mother were here to enjoy it." He sighed, "Or that we could get past what happened with the Morley's and invited Chester. I know they didn't really _intend_ for it to happen, but still, the fact that it _did_ happen nearly destroyed _our_ family. And they hurt you, Vera. They hurt you and _humiliated_ you." He shook his head. "I will never be able to forget that."

"You should at least forgive them," said Vera. "I think I'm ready now. It happened years ago and the fact is, our family is still standing. And I know I was grateful to finally be forgiven."

Lombard laughed, "You know, I have the feeling that now that Hugo lives next door to us, life is going to get _really_ interesting."

"Yes," nodded Vera. "It will be a real adventure."

The two gazed at the yellow-and-red sunset in the sky before turning to each other and sharing a long, passionate kiss, looking forward to the future ahead of them, a future that could not have been had things gone differently on this day fourteen years ago.

**THE END**

_Credit Song: __At the Beginning__ by Donna Lewis and Richard Marx_

_Quote: Seasons may change winter to spring/But I'll love you/Until the end of time—Ewan Macgregor, __Come What May__ from the movie __Moulin Rouge!_

**A/N: Wow...after thinking that I would never get to the end, here I am. I always intended for this to be exactly fifty chapters long and I never thought I'd actually make it to the end...but here I am.**

**This story has ended...but another is to come. The original epilogue detailed what happened over the past thirteen years, but the end result turned out to be thirty-two pages (and that's just the FIRST half of it!). I was advised to write an epilogue that lightly touches on these storylines and to turn my other 'epilogue' into a sequel, which I will. I didn't want to shorten it because it is the kind of epilogue that is so tightly written that to leave even one passage out would leave the reader in utter confusion. The sequel will go into more detail as to the events that take place over the past thirteen years that are only briefly mentioned here. I apologize if this epilogue seems a bit rushed, but I promise you things will be better explained in the sequel.**

**So...thank you to everyone who has reviewed, don't forget to leave one final review for this story, say which issues you're looking forward to seeing properly resolved (I have quite a few in mind, but it wouldn't hurt to be reminded of anything I may have forgotten), and stay tuned for the upcoming sequel!**


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